"LEAVE ME ALONE" She hissed. It was clear she was ******, her heart closed like a fist.

Even with feelings dismissed you're too hard to resist. So to you I insist that our love should exist.

I recall when we first kissed and my eyes start to mist.

I know I'd strain my wrist if I wrote a list of all the things about you I've missed.

It was late November in Los Angeles,
back when it still used to rain.
In that old apartment in which everything felt
filtered yellow, like coffee stained teeth.
The walls, like you, were too thin;
at times I could hear your neighbor crying.

We used to drink, and head up to the rooftop,
where we would smoke too many cigarettes
and loudly declare our love.
Our aesthetic was broke and romantic.
Drunkenly admiring one another like
we admired the city
by romanticizing it's flawed demeanor.

"...don't you remember me babe,
I remember you quite well..."
I sang to you while I ran my cold fingers
through your soft waves.
You hated Dylan but joked
that I nailed it, and
began warm my hands with your breath.

Is it just me?
Tell me, is it just me?

Am I hallucinating?
Or, too assuming?

Do you feel it, too?
the currents and wavelengths,
running back and forth,
from me to you?

Tell, me is it just me?

Maybe, it is just me.

When I remember
pressing my face against your neck
and tucking it under your hair
and kissing your ear,
it's the smell that overwhelms me.

In memory, it's more like a color.
A brand new color.
A more beautiful color.
In delicate hues it comes and goes as I breathe.
I breathe deeply to try to capture it.

But I can't steal the rawest of your beauty.
Although I may, for a moment, remember the joy it gave me.