you never left the warm feelings that floated into the veins under my skin, the ink that stained permanent marks a lot like your name did my mind, I remember how your eyes looked in the sun, on Sunday mornings you preferred pancakes for breakfast - ones with white chocolate chips - and you left on a windy winter afternoon for an acting gig you 'couldn't pass up', I guess you weren't that good if i could almost smell the seconds that you'd close the door shut; your scent once owned the whole place. I always knew mountains came with valleys but I didn't know that we were at the edge of the country where the city begins and another time in my life unfolds.