She closed her eyes and shook her head in disbelief.
And I said simply, "My dear, if you continue to look at the world
through rose-colored glasses, perhaps you will never have to see the
demons at your feet.

I wish the bad memories were easier to remember,
Because the positive ones make me miss you the most.

I wish the fights we had were the first thing I thought of,
Not the smell of your hair from the shampoo still in the shower.

I wish I could remember the hurt before I remembered the love,
Because without the ******* I still want you back.

I wish I could have found a single imperfection with you,
Because then I would understand why two people aren't meant to be together.

I wish sleepless nights of hurt and anger were the ones I remember,
Not the ones where I feel lonely and forgotten.

I wish time moved faster for us,
So I would have less of a gold standard to how someone should make me feel.

I wish I hated you,
Because I crave the way you hated me.

And for some
God-forsaken reason,
you keep calling me back to bed,
back to a time
when the ocean air was as warm
as the beers in our hands.

That was the night I thought
all things were
possible,
and for the first time
in a long time,
it felt good to feel that
hope.

I hadn't yet tasted you,
not the salt-sting
of your tongue,
and the bitterness
of your cigarette-laden
mouth.

You treated mine like
an ashtray,
giving me your embers,
flakes and burnt-out ends,
but only in the chill
of January air.

I was never allowed inside
to warm,
but watched from
the porch,
cold and hard,
listening to your laughter
bounce off ceiling beams
and floor tiles.

And even now,
when a lifetime
stands between
you and
me
and that beach,
I can't help but think
that those sandy shores
are more comfortable
than my own mattress.

Here I sit in my pile of ashes
Wishing I had some rose colored glasses
I want to look at things a new
But my glasses don't carry that hue
I watch my dreams smoke and combust
And all I can do is look on in disgust