And I never seemed to get that out of my mind.
How I used to see in words, but now I can only see in motion; I'm forced to watch the black and white videos of the past.
And I swore that I'd never think of it again.
The night last year when we had that Christmas party.
It's amazing how everyone told me how cold it was that night, but I never even noticed, because I was wrapped up in your arms and had my head pressed protectively up against your chest.
I always loved how your whole body would softly shake with your chiming laughter.
Or how you'd gently kiss my head and tell me we'd one day make it out of that small town. But I guess that's all gone now.
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And I knelt down on the muddy soil and let the breeze simply blow away my tears, wishing it was you kissing them away.
I had brought a plastic bag and a new bouquet of specially dyed royal blue roses to match the color that used to be your eyes.
I gathered up all of the wilted leaves and petals and disposed of them in a nearby trashcan. I came everyday and brought you the flowers each time. All of the family was beginning to talk of me by then. They started to say I was being overly obsessed and
such, but honestly, how was I supposed to act completely normal? You were my soul, baby.
And I keep wishing that the day will end, and I will wake to find you beside me again, your arm wrapped around my waist and my face buried in your neck.
I want to see the morning sun lighting up your eyes and the sea's breeze softly rocking the delicate scarlet petals that line every inch of our white satin sheets.
Most of all, I want to feel your warm, rhythmatic breathing on my eyelids as you sing to me of cliche love poems and pretend dreams of the future.
I don't want honesty. I don't want reality. I want my life back
