Now if you asked me about my version of heaven if say it smelled of vanilla and lavender. I would tell you the walls were made of teal and there would never be ceilings just clouds that hung above. There would be beautiful redwood trees surrounding the ocean so I could sleep.

Now if you asked my my version of heaven I would tell you about the daisies and the piles of autumn leaves. I would tell you there was a constant nostalgia feeling.

And if you asked me about my version of heaven I would tell you that for once it didn't involve you. I wouldn't remember the smell of your cologne or the natural wave in your hair. I would never remember the green hues in your eyes and that breathtaking smile.

Because to be constantly reminded of the passion and the person I can't have is not my version of heaven.
It's my hell.