We hopeless romantics find true romance in the darkest of rooms where a flickering light illuminates the only face that matters and you'll be able to find your way to the door and come out a brand new person and see the world for the beauty it truly holds even through the tears you had shed.

But how can I be homesick if I've never felt home?

I am a wolf.
You are the moon,
my moon.

I climb the highest mountains,
just to see you.
Continuous cries of love,
with nothing in return.

Sailing so high above the clouds,
you must forget what its like,
to be a wolf,
to be so low.

Our love will never be.
Destined for failure,
you can never be mine,
Luna Boy.

Yet I will always return
to you.
Even when you leave me alone,
howling in the darkness of my mind.

Last night
I sat on the plane, window seat like always, tunes steady streaming.

I looked out the window and just like magic, a shooting star appeared.

The night sky welcomed me back and
home, I am again.

I have chosen my battles
I am prepared to fight
But what do I do if they won't even let me in the ring?

They say the rains come to push away,

to wash away

The rains come also 
to empty, to sob,

to let out so they can move on

We need them 

And they, us 

The delicate petals open only for

The rains that hold onto and take away and let us find our way again

Two months until I can depart from this monotonous town,
until I can dance under the western stars with my friends,
until I see you and can feel whole again.
And,
in two months it'll be autumn
cold nights, layered clothes, leaves transforming into warmer colors
to match the feeling my heart gets when you're around.

So many warm nothing's
Cold accusations
and breathless reprimands

Disappointment has a cyclical nature
And I, the focal point,
am stuck
In an unsolvable maze
Looking for the light

I am a moth.
Constantly searching for the moonlight,
following intuition,
following heart.

So unaware of my dangerous actions,
yet...
so vulnerable.
Swept up in my own wants and dreams
that I lose track of the harsh reality.
I am a moth.

I love them all in the most platonic possible way

and I know they love me too.

If only we could sit together always,

just telling each other stories,

I’d listen to their blues and help them with the words. 

The music keeps us all close I feel like.

I’ve secured this little army of boys that would **** for me and I, for them.

But the years have done damage on us all and our journeys have led us down different roads.

Once a flock,

us birds fly our own way now. 

Some of us heading north for the winter and others seek shelter elsewhere.

But there was a time that we found each other and this time will come again.

And when we do,

we’ll cozy up by the fire once more and go for drives like we always have, 
Justin Vernon sometimes and 
“Through the fields, somewhere there’s blue” will soundtrack our misfirings at the universe and youthful adventures with the desert, our canvas. 

Arizona, our home base.

Thanks for teaching me how to love, boys. Until next time.