Room temperature murmurs pour out over steaming cups and dark wood.
Groggy eyes and half cocked smiles flock here for a socially acceptable chemical dependence. Staring out a window, I watch the restless streets buzz by.
Many in their way to work. Some to enjoy an ever so needed day off. Others in a hurry to promise company beside a hospital bed. None of which I will ever be positive of.  Cars driving by. Whirring, feet scuffling on the pavement.  Individual existences pass in front of me.

I take a sip. It's always hotter than I'd expect it to be. I never mind it but I never learn my lesson.
Slightly bitter but today I poured too much creamer and that's fine.Different day, different coffee.

Although I'm not alone.  Sitting across from me, a ghost of memories I'll always hold dear to me.

You look beautiful today. You always look just the way I remember.

You didn't wear makeup. You hardly ever did.

Just sit and stare out the window together. Trading obsessive stares on occasion. I could drown in you. But please do drink your coffee. We've got a long day ahead of us.

I wonder how cold the seat is across where you used to sit. I can actually see the etchings of adolescent behavior carved into the wooden seat where your body made itself comfortable. Tracing the perimiter line where your shoulders descend down onto your arms resting so lazily on the table while you enjoy the warmth of your cup.

I try to not live in the past. It's a place that's often falsified, Romanticized. But today is different.
Different day different coffee.

I refuse to live in the present tense today. Let me take your hand and let's guess what each passer by is going to do. Just as the table across from us might question our motives.

Isn't this wonderful? The touch of your skin in my hands. I can feel your heartbeat in me. It's always been there. You've made a place for love to sit and it's nestled comfortably in my heart.  The light catching your eyes in the slightest way. Illuminating the room. Nobody will notice.

But I do.

I always do.

Turning UV rays into a kaleidoscope of warming images. Turning the old, droll walls into magnificent pieces of art.

Oh, my. This cup is getting cold. It must be time to go. I cannot take you with me, my dear. But I will meet you here tomorrow. I hope to find you here and I hope you'll enjoy your coffee.

Kiss me on the cheek and wave me goodbye. I'm considering a warm refill but I think I'll just take with me this Luke warm drink for once.

Different day. Different coffee.

Autumn leaves make their decent downward taking slight detours on the backs of slight breezes before they kiss the earth below.
Life still breaths through them. Small heartbeats tremble through the stem and spread throughout.
They lay at my feet as if they were rose petals thrown out for me.

It's quiet this evening.
Only the crunching of the leaves scuffling under my tired footsteps make the loudest noises around. Echoing through the streets.

Must be family night. Or some kind of sports event that draws everyone indoors with their friends and family. Nobody to greet me as I walk by.
I can hear you Bouncing off the rooftops and along the power lines.
A calming melody you always seem to sing. You're in the air.
The breeze that gently carries the foliage down from the high branches from the sky above as to not damage the leaves on the fall.
I'm glad you're here. As if you tucked Mother Nature into bed and gave her the night off.
Sing me another song. You always knew the right words to sing.

Stopping in my tracks, clutching the contents of my pockets I look upwards and listen. How I've missed you.
I often stroll along these streets in hope I can tune into your frequency, but my antennae can never get a clear channel. I must have been lucky today.

I breath you in.
Welcome, make yourself comfortable. Permeate my bloodstream and make me feel whole again. Oh, how I've missed this. Please. Don't go just yet. I don't know when I'll be able to find your signal again. Embracing as much if you as I can before the sun goes down and the street lights come on telling me it's time to go back home.

Familiar footsteps pave the way before me. Dancing in the impressions of my own every day no matter where I go.

Fast skies and quiet mountains look down on my sluggish frame dragging along to the deadest pace imaginable.
My ankles are heavy. Weighted down by the ties I've made here. Every old memory, every acquaintance tugs on the strings and keeps me here.

My legs are tired.
Each time I lift my feet its just teasing the idea of freedom. I've become jealous of the birds overhead.

Limitless and carefree.
Their songs speak stories of grander pastures. Places I've never been and afraid I'll never go as long as I'm made of concrete.

I was once told that there's a beauty in everything, but I've chiseled away the stone for years and can't seem to see what's i picture in my head.
Maybe it could be the fact that I don't have the right tools. Or maybe it's because I keep hoping for marble in this slab of granite.

A single bead of sweat teases the idea of falling as it rests on your brow. Clinging on for dear life for the thought of leaving you is more terrifying than the fall itself.
Canopies of lush green fan over your head. Casting shadows onto you as if the trees were keeping you a secret. But the sun is a curious and intrusive man. Peeking in wherever he could, but you don't mind. The rays of light that make its way through kiss your skin and flatter your image more and more. You dance your way into the brush. Your body weaves through the foliage like a ribbon in the breeze.
Gracefully and carefully your hands give the slightest touch to the things you find irresistible.
You've always been a romantic. Falling in love with every bit of freedom you can find.  the air here is filled with it.

Singing to the leaves and the springs you discover. They look back at you and smile knowing you're the most beautiful thing to have walked the forest floor.  There's a sound of violence as well as serenity. Angry white crashing down from the slate above and you stare onto it.

She's a moody one, isn't she? She's terrified of heights but she has to make the plunge and the rocks are her catharsis. Breaking hard against them finally floating downstream.

Clear. Void of imperfections. You've fallen in love again. I can see it in your eyes. Glossing over hazel,  lids over your eyes take a bow at me.  The hairpin curl of your lip that I adore quickly spreads from ear to ear ceaselessly.

You'd be a fool to miss this opportunity.

I watch you.

Clumsily skip to the creek bed and jump in. Flocks of birds chirp overhead. Mapping out directions to one place or another. Quiet breeze picks up enough to rattle the leaves to show us nature's music. It carries the scent of pine and moist soil. You merely disappeared for a moment. You rise above water. Through your hair back and wipe your face. The water reflecting off of your eyes trapping me in with your irresistible gaze. That unforgettable  grin shines into me and warms my heart. You beg for me to get in, but I can't.
Frozen as if medusa herself cursed me but I know i simply cannot. You've fallen in love and she's all yours. I can't take this from you and you understand.

So I take in the scene. I never take these for granted, no. For that would be ignorant of me. Although I think it's time we traverse back to where we came. So link your fingers in mine and carve our names into the earth because I want the forest to know what our love is worth. More than just a simple story of infatuation's birth. As we make our way back and you lay your head onto my shoulder I can't help but to smile and hope the sun speaks of you to the moon and stars above.  
Telling tales of a small dancing goddess that flirts with the trees and blows kisses at the sunset so that you'll always be remembered. But I don't know where we're going nor does it really matter. So we'll keep traveling forward and we can lay our heads when you get tired.

But we didn't build us a house of stone and brick because I knew it shook the very core of you the thought of being stuck inside of 4 walls. Torturing you with Windows that overlook the world and you can't fly out. Bouncing around the walls, you're a balloon only trying to go up. A free soul and I wouldn't dare to shackle your ankles with domestication. Instead I'll make a bed of the forest floor. We've done this over a thousand times before. You look me in the eyes before we say goodnight to the trees. Reminding me that I've made a home in you as you have in me.

Soft dew sharpens a blades of grass in time for the sun to polish the fresh green.

Constellations take on a veil of warmth and the moon turns its back as to stand in the shadow of her older brother.

There's a certain world that exists between dawn and the departing night sky. Stars shaking hands with the bright blue firmly, but never enough for a final goodbye.

Interstellar limbo.

Maybe the space between is the path we travel after we press our clothes and carve dates in stone.

Floating in between the ticks of the clock, weaving about. Not exactly sure where you're going but you know how to get there. And you're not clear if you'll get a warm welcome when you arrive but you're not exactly terrified.

The porch light is on.

Step on the welcome mat and open the door. You're home.

Youve made it clear that you want me to unlock the doors and climb inside your heart but I stumble on the key rings and my soul is made of tar. I don't want to let myself because I know I'll tear you apart.

It's not that I'm incapable of loving but i do believe Im incapable to tear down these walls to let the light in. Loving always came so easy as long as I could see out but I boarded up my windows with every inch of doubt I had labeled on this handful of nails.
My hands are tired and my heart is weak. I've been at this for a long time and I can't seem to get any sleep.

Not because I can't but because I don't want to.

Being awake reminds me of what I was and what I lost and if I close my eyes I'm afraid that piece of me will disappear into the horizon and never find its way back home.

Not that it could anyway.

This castle I built around myself didn't include a door in the original blueprint. So it now seems to me that I'll be spending my nights alone in this circular prison trying to find a corner to rest my head. But instead I'll pile up some bricks to make myself a bed in which I'll never sleep.

You sit outside the stone and yell my name at the top of your lungs and wish that there was a ladder with more than a few rungs to make it to the top so you could see in. but this is a battle that none of us could win. And I wish that you could pull me out of this hole. Unfortunately I built it too high and none of us can climb. It wasn't my intention, you see, but I get carried away and a storm brewed up inside me and the only way to keep my self from drowning was to pile onto this fortress.
Grey clouds roll into the sky and there's no time left for you and I. So I pile back on brick after brick to build me a roof so that I don't get wet and this fire beside me is barely lit with the embers somberly glowing with the spark inside of me that's left. I can no longer see out but the rain can't get to me. It's so dark and lonely here I can no longer hear a thing, but your voice cracks and echoes through the walls.

Your knuckles are bleeding from knocking all day but I can't bandage your hands how you'd want me to. Even if I could it wouldn't feel the same way.

I'm sure we've all been to that place in time where we feel like we let ourselves float out the window.
Scraping bits and pieces of our old skin to leave behind on the dusty sill.

Sitting in the corner of your room cuddling your knees together at your chest. Burying your eyes into your arms trying to figure out when it all went wrong.

Or if it even was going right in the beginning.

Time after time you never felt like you were winning. A runner up in every race. Your heels buckle at the thought of getting ahead and you can always seem to hit the pavement harder each time you fall.

Lying next to you, a silver barrel. Cold and unused. It's brought you comfort time and time again. The only one there for you when the walls of your house come crashing in.

Inside the chamber is loaded with a single bullet. Packed full of powder, your hopes, dreams and aspirations.

Reminders of happiness and the days you spent laughing with ones you love over breakfast and that time you accidentally spilled your drinks on your mother's carpet when she was away on business.

An old lover and memories of how her skin felt when was pressed against yours.

Childhood mischief and the excited panic of running home when the streetlights came on. Your father's care and how he always told you of your remarkable tenacity.

Everything was so fruitful until you took charge and your head took control of you.

So you pick up the cold steel and press it tightly against your head. Staring out the open window at the landscape of buildings and the streets polluted with conversation, the smell of old tires and half empty dumpsters. Reel the hammer back to hear the click of freedom's ring through your ears and feel it rattle through your bones.

One deep breath that fills your lungs full of stagnant air. Once a person of failure that could never succeed but you never sought it through to the end but you knew you were too self loathing to try and the devil on your shoulder could speak louder than you ever could so you could never talk your way out of it.

Your heart racing faster than it did when she first kissed you. Your knees tremble against your chest. The arm you have free clutches your legs to remain still. Streetlights flicker. You can't squeeze your eyes any tighter. It's impossible to try.
Father patting you on the back. "Good job, boy". Slight breeze whistles through the window as the winds pick up outside. Cleaning up after your parties before your mother got home.

Press the barrel harder against your head until it hurts. Conversations below bellow through the alleys and spill into the corridors. You've never been success because you were greeted with failure around every corner. But this time you know exactly what you were doing and how to get it.

So you pull the trigger.

Looking down at the contents of my head as they look back at me, laughing, Cursing my name, taunting the very idea of my existence.

Pack them away.

Quickly now. Can't let them win this time. I've never been a winner, and I've trained for this for a while now. My efforts still cease to improve.

Although I'm able to box them all up.  taped up like a gift wrapped from a toddler. It's fragile.  

One mistake and the entire thing falls apart. Pouring out the contents like river rapids.

The tide rips and shreds everything into little, unrecognizable pieces. It’s not safe to dive in and return them from where they were hidden. Nor would I be able to reassemble what was once something tangible.

So they flow on endlessly as i stand along the riverbank and watch them escape me.