I did remember the feeling of apple picking season. I remembered the fall weather and what it was like to find the perfect one. The apples were of red and green, sometimes both, but colors that reminded me of warmth and the candle mother had lit just before dinner was served. It was cold that day but not cold enough for a sweater, just for apple cider and pumpkin donuts. The apple I picked was red, all red. I stood upon the ladder, feeling giant, I reigned over the trees and felt like howling over top of them. I remembered then, the applesauce grandmother would make. I would remember the first bite, the bitter taste of fresh apple, sour but sweet. Grandmothers home.

I wouldn’t like to believe I am cold. I am not cold. I am uncertain. They mean the same thing to you, I know it. I am tired. I am awake at 4:19 a.m. and the world is asleep. The moon just laid to rest but not for good only just for the hours no one needed him. I needed the moon hours before when we talked about our lives, its craters were deep he had aged since we last discussed the world. I felt that the world was in my hands at that hour, I must go do something good I thought only to lie awake as the fan chirped above me. I am not cold but I am uncertain. The moon told me my path was steady but who is he to say, he only comes out in the late hours. The hours no one seems to pay any mind to, the world is asleep.

I have come to a conclusion. The conclusion to all my worries. To my pain and my curiosity. I will not be good enough. I will ask you for your assurance. I will beg you to let me stay. I would never leave. They leave me. They run fleeing as quick as their feet may carry them... broken photo frames and torn love letters. I was just hoping you would stay...

It was December and the sun rested upon its cloud.
night.
I sang in the shower that night. I even combed through my messy curls. More pulling than combing. But I combed.
In the mirror. My reflection. It glanced at me and smiled back and even had the same beauty mark upon its lower cheek. We were the same.
I wondered what it was like to be the least favorite in the garden.
Did roses think lily’s were ugly? Roses were beautiful.
sad. Upon some time you would grow lonely. Tired. Un whole.
Empty. I was empty because I felt ordinary.
I was ordinary nothing too good. Not anything bad. Ordinary.
In afternoons walking past the roses I saw myself as a Dandelion. The ugly one.
The ugly duckling. The ugly flower. The ordinary.

Something about the way his eyes glowed in the pattern on the sun filled the room with an aura of something blue. Sometimes red. Others green or purple. But each time he filled the room. On days that were cold his heart grew warm. Though cheeks red. His hair was brown but white like snow on winter days. He reminded me of winter. Chilling but beautiful. Complex but so simple. Cold but warm inside.

Remember the way of the moon and how the seasons changed. The sun kissed the August season as the lakes warmed and the sunflowers bloomed. Or remember when the sun fell early but softly on the winter lakes. Frozen and fields white with snow. The changing seasons of May were what I’d remember most from my childhood. It would be summer and the joyous giggles of children galloping through fields would fill the air like a rain storm in April. Along the lakes we’d row to the ghost island, bones piling up in numbers unimaginable but, it was an adventure. A memory. The sunscreen burning through our cheeks we’d lie among grasses and wet rivers, longing for summer to stay forever. The winter months were soon but the blossoming flowers and handmade ice cream made us think that wasn’t so.

I thought he was the one... I was wrong. I am no longer a lover but a fool

The staircase looked to be painted green or something meant to be blue but ended up green
The green was chipped with flakes of brown hardwood poking through the crevices
Of the emerald color. I stepped on the first staircase remembering the warm Augusts there but mostly the fall. His coat was still hanging on the pole connected to the railing I glanced at it and it glanced back at me. Staring into my soul but my weeping eyes as I remembered what it felt like to be in love. His coat smelled of cologne and dried rain. I put it over my shoulders, tears falling into place.
This staircase in our home belonged to us and only us, but then he left and now it is only me, It is only me with all my faults and ripped jeans too big to fit my withering waistline as I count the days gone by. I count the days on the calendar marking a tiny X in the corner hoping still he might walk through the door. I hope still, that he would greet me with the same expressions he once did before, always first asking me about my day. Now I enter my home with empty dreams and dark memories with no one to call out my name. The staircase was for us, it was the road map to our dreams. The staircase carried our first boxes all marked and packed with things that belonged to us. The staircase carried our long nights after staying up late, talking about things only we knew.
The Staircase who was once emerald green carried what I thought to be our future but ended up as a memory from the past in only a matter of seconds. I never knew why he left me sitting upon that staircase, my head buried in the palms of my hands atop that staircase . He left in a fit of rage with the idea of never coming back, I didn’t think that was so.  But now this staircase carry’s regret, for I shouldn’t have said what I said but the staircase knew I only wanted what was best. The staircase may also carry my future, I just haven’t discovered what that might be yet.

I will wait up for the happiness that once belonged to me. I will kiss the robins in the early morning and the fall leaves right outside my window. The books waiting to be read, I will read them, to pass the time, some a better read than others, but I will read them anyway. The darkness will go away soon as long as I light the candle each night. I will hug the flames, feeling the fire enter my body. I will glow like never before. I will be the light until the happiness that once belonged to me returns.

I laid in bed that night with a cold feeling in the pit of my stomach. Not winter but fall. It was back in my home. The darkness I felt winters ago, perched up on my windowsill begging the sun to shine for just one day. I felt his silence when I knew he was near. My heart was heavy and cold, I could hear his words creeping up on me in the night. It was dark. But I could feel the pain rushing back in. It was dark and there was a lonely cat outside my window.

They say there are ways to cope and writing is one but all we wish for is the cure. In the storm and chaos of everything summer, we only wish to smell the roses a little while longer until the thought of the killer shark takes over our minds leading us to a place where we’re too afraid to swim. I go to the beach and look at the waves only to wish I could dip my sanded feet into the water letting the chills take over me. Anything and everything we’d do just to feel free.

It was raining that morning and I had awoken to your soft touch on my rosy, red, cheeks as I laid in bed ill and still tired. Your song you used to sing to me every morning washed through my head like the waves do on a tropical island. You whispered in my ear and told me I’d be alright and asked if maybe I would like some tea. I was sick but I loved it, I wanted your arms held around my aching body, I wanted to finally feel loved and wanted and you made me feel as so. So maybe it isn’t so bad to be sick in bed, maybe the tea and the soft rain was all worth it, but only so I could be loved again.

Along the meadows the sun shone its bright colors, glorifying the beauty of nature. I knew I was right where I wanted to be. I knew the wind howling in the distance was a call from the birds who were ready for me to come outside and play. School was almost over and the kids were riding bikes along the paths of sunshine and yellow flowers. The sun woke me up that day and I knew that I was right where I needed to be. With the sun shining over me and the sound of the birds just waiting for me to come outside and play.

There was something of October that reminded me to make sure you were still there. In the morning when I woke I rolled to your side to see you breathing softly and slowly like a babies first good nights rest. Something about last October reminded me of when he left without a warning or a note that I could crumple up and burn in a fire full of depression and self doubt. I curled up in the armchair facing you just watching you stay and promise to never let go. I wanted my old lover to be that way too, I wanted him to walk on fall leaves and sip cinnamon tea as the nights grew longer as time went. I wished upon a lonely star that he would be just like you but all the hoping turned into sorrow for nothing but his shoe prints were left upon the bottom stair and a string of his curly hair on my rain jacket.

It’s sad to think that I knew you by something more than just your name and the color shirt you wore on a hot summers day. I used to know your fears and the books you read that changed your life. I once knew the color you’ve always wanted to dye your hair or the boy you’ve liked for so so long. I used to know you by something more than just that blank stare. I saw him the other day just on the corner down the block I turned my face the other way because I was scared of the conversations we once had and the way we told our stories with no regret. I was scared of what used to be and the thought of that never being again.

And even though it hurts the most to say I love you, I always will. In stolen moon light I sit writing something of hope and what could be happiness. My words are broken like my heart, my mind is cold like December. In fallen leaves I found love on an October evening in the middle of no where reading books of fairytales that never seemed to come true. I wrote Dad at the top of a paper I hoped to finish writing but, in reality I  don’t even know where to start. Where do I begin when love has no ending, where do I begin when once what was love is gone...

The corner store, just a short walk from the docks, the one made of honey and fresh peaches. I remember it like it was yesterday bare feet and pebbled rock. From the shore the children would run, mom and dad gave a nickel for ice cream. I rode my bike on a summers afternoon and I rung my bell as I neared closer to the hot pressed waffle cones. Mr. Wright became my friend on a summer night, he ran the general store. I’d go in and we’d talk for hours, a fresh coca cola and a fudge sickle bar. I wish Mr. Wright was here on this fine night where I am feeling a little more lonely. I wish Mr. Wright wasn’t flying high with the birds singing the same song he always sang. I wish for a Coca Cola and I dream of something of dasies and open fields.

And it was one step closer to the end. I left my apartment with no mind of where to go but I heard him shout “hurry up you don’t have much time until you grow up” so here I am with a pocket full of change and optimism. Down thirty first street the drummers drum thier roll, I step to the beat, I count the patterns with my feet. I still have no mind of where to go or where I am going but, I must  hurry before I get old. My favorite coffee shop I pass, the smile of the freckled boy almost lured me in but I felt it’d be best to just walk right past. I hold my head down so no one sees me escaping my past and entering a future so foggy I can’t even find my way. I don’t worry about tomorrow or what the sidewalks will bring for I must hurry before I get old. I pass the sign that tells me where I am headed and it is one step closer to the end

Talking about will heal you just a little. It’ll put the glue on the pieces of your broken heart that need a little fixing. It’ll make you realize things you never knew about yourself. You’ll learn a little bit more. Just a little.

I hope tomorrow is better than today. I hope the rain falls more calmly and the stars line up just right. I hope tomorrow love won’t knock me down once I get up again, I hope tomorrow I win the fight. Today I fell down because love pushed me over and crippled me, I was scared to rise again. The kitten embraced me like kittens do and I was able to face the day but, a presence loomed over me, reminding me of the darkness that forced me under the covers of my empty bed. The darkness that kept me tied down underneath the sheets, scared to see what the rest of the day held. I hope tomorrow I can wake up with fixed tea and strudels. I hope tomorrow the sun rises early in the am and the moon falls perfectly under the stars.