Confident dreams of a love-lettered tomorrow
by one with an over eager heart.
"Get lost. Find everything."

The clutch of her heart mirrored the clutch of his stick
as the night was lost eighty miles too fast.
"Get lost. Find everything."

The smell of lavender, swollen lips, hands and limbs.
A comfortable, misleading sleep.
"Get lost. Find everything."

Who knew lavender could be so cruel?
Icarus burned by the sun, Zelda by Scott.

A thrill? Perhaps. As graceful as a goodbye can be.
Thank you for the experience.
**Lose him. Find yourself.