We were driving back from a long night that consisted of
 frosted lips, too much eyeliner, beeping car alarms, and ran-thru stop lights
 This boy smelled like a barn but was as clean cut as a sailor he was a heartthrob and ALL the ladies wanted him...and by ALL I mean...me...just...me. On this December night, white dust blanketed the streets.
The roads were as slick as this boy’s hair. But, every time I was with him…It felt like summer.
He, he made me feel like I was worth something that even if I fell off a cliff into the night sky I know that he would not catch me at the bottom and let pieces of me disappear into constellations. But he would hold me and ride me down like a feather caught in a breeze, latching on… to every part of me.

He had tambourines for eyelashes and every time he blinked I got lost in the beat. His skin was a harmony that only a few people have the pleasure of hearing. His words were quiet, yet I could hear his timpani footsteps from 100 miles away.
You see, love… love is like being robbed at gunpoint everyday and hoping that there is something about today that makes it different.

Hoping that EVERYTHING will be different.

We were pulled from the wreckage while this holy fog is a monstrous cloud devouring our shattered automobile. His body slammed against my soul, and it felt like every word of love that I have never uttered. I NEVER ACTUALLY TOLD YOU THAT I LOVED YOU…BUT YOU NEVER TOLD ME THAT YOU WOULDN’T BE AROUND…LONG ENOUGH TO HEAR IT.
We hang from our seat belts like puppets and God, God is the puppeteer. We are rag dolls; we are drunken astronauts parasailing across the rusted sky. His eyes rolled back like marbles out of the velvet bag. Hearts dangling like mobiles, minds disappeared into our intertwining bodies, wrapped around like ribbons of this present called Heaven.

Everything. Will. Be. Different…

I hate you for getting me into this mess, but I still miss you and part of me, part of me still loves you. You were like an addiction...and I was comfortable with being lost in the habit.
It's been damn near four years.

And I still walk into abandoned barns just to get your smell. Tambourines still jingle in my mind. My heart is now a timpani and my shadow is in the shape of your silhouette.
Baby, I know we were meant to be because as I sit at this table called life and try to piece it together, the missing piece happens to be in the shape of your smile.

You are now only a continuous though that…I pin to the edges of stars, and auction them off to my fondest memories.

Now, I run stoplights going 100 miles per hour praying that the same thing will happen to me, so I can see you again. And I know, I KNOW that this is not the right way to do it! But some days, I wish you were here…so, I take the chains off my door, lay on feathered pillow... hoping that you would float through my door, like, like the way you floated away from me.