Sometimes you just miss her, don’t you?
not the way you normally miss someone,
No.

But in the way that the sky misses the sun,
when she leaves for the night.
when all light is gone,
and all that’s left is darkness once again.

She fell into your arms, didn’t she?
like water down the drain,
she washed away the mess and left greatness,
clear as day.

So, you held on to her, didn’t you?
like a father does a son,
but conflict rose, and thorns grew,
stealing away the petals,
as they fell to the ground.

You couldn’t hold onto her, could you?
not in the way a blacksmith can’t hold a flame,
but in the way the stars can’t hold onto the night,
coz someday, she will come back again.

well who knows, maybe if we had hugged a little longer,
and loved a little stronger,
moved a little slower,
and argued a little less.
perhaps then we would have each other.
perhaps in another life,
where we get what we want and we both are fully grown.
but perhaps we polluted a thousand memories with our words when we should have stayed silent.
but plants grow, and people change,
so perhaps we just grew apart, and our intertwined lives became too separate.
because you should never force love, no matter how much you want it.
sometimes,
you've got to let it go away.

The fire burnt out and the ash floated away.
creating patterns around our fingers we couldn't ignore
it was there when we would stare into each other's eyes for hours on end.

There.

That's how I'll remember you.

She is my therapeutic recipe of beautifully placed atoms.

A wonderful arrangement of parts, wound together with love and kindness, hidden behind a fake smile and shy eyes.
her mind a mess with cigarette smoke and memories, brought back to haunt her through lonely nights.

But it is here, in the mind, where she creates the most extraordinary things. Poems and word arrangements in ways I never could, expressing such deep emotions, that bleed from the page. Every word elegantly feeding into the next, delicately woven to appeal to the reader, I could get lost in those lines for hours.

In the top most window of an old oversized house, there is a boy looking out…

I leaked my emotions through the familiar window as I watched this slow motion explosion of layered light brightly engulf the sky.

The room itself a simple place, where I’d come years earlier in emergency of a bad dream or scary thought. Now itself becoming a bad dream of a memory, stale with regrets and unhappiness.

That’s the thing, this house is nothing but things, of which I’ve been surrounded by my entire life. Moving from room to room as the memories and anger build up just enough to wreck the room before moving onto the next. An unexplained ****** of compressed claustrophobic anger and depression of a tortured mind.