I had this picture entangled in my mind of how things were supposed to be when you got here.
A gust of fantasy blew over me, leaving me lustful and yearning for your touch.
The thought of your warm hands caressing my tense body, eased all pain temporarily felt.
The thought of your eyes, so evergreen, staring into mine, ignited a raging fire within, a fire that could not be tamed.
I had this picture in my mind of how things were supposed to be when you got here.
You created a wave so powerful inside of my soul, that the shoreline washed away and my and your footprints remained in harmony, pressed deeply into the sand.
The thought of us starting over created butterflies in my stomach, and a race within my heart.
The thought of how high I build my castles walls, and how you never seize to not knock them down, create a drive within me because a drive is within you.
I had this picture entangled in my mind of how things were supposed to be when you got here.
Two bodies in rhythm so beautifully, they created their own symphony.
The thought of your gentle lips meshing with mine and moving to the beat of love made sparks that radiated out of me, like the sky on the Fourth of July.
The thought of giving myself to you fostered a feeling so long hidden under trauma and fear, that I'd never remove the rubbish and unleash it.
You brushed away the mile high pile above it, and brought this feeling to light.
I yearned to do things with you that I'd never willingly done before.
I was awaiting our symphony.
I had this picture entangled in my mind of how things were supposed to be when you got here.
As we drove to the airport, my hand around yours, we spoke softly and let our emotions run hard.
The thought of you waving goodbye as you walked into the crowded airport spawned a feeling of sadness but pure content, as my picture had been painted perfectly.
The thought of you staring out of the window at the Louisiana ground below, waiting so eagerly for the Los Angeles view, actualized the feeling that distance means so little when someone means so much.
I had this picture entangled in my mind of how things were supposed to be when you got here.
But somehow, I lost all creative ability and my picture was painted by someone else, someone with a darker picture than I.
It was hung on a wall, eye level with me, so that I could never say I didn't get the picture.
Oh, prominent it was. It's message quite clear and detailed, painted just for me.
The thought of us being lost in time, again, caused my body to retreat into a state of sadness. Like Picasso's blue period, I was monochromatic only sometimes warmed by other pigments.
The thought of you taking her picture and hanging it above the mantle in your mind, spiraled me into a state of artists block.
What was once a talent etched into my soul, became a hobby so foreign to me.
I had this picture entangled in my mind of how things were supposed to be when you got here.
Suddenly, your point of view changed, and you didn't like the way I hung mine. My shading was off, and the details within mine, didn't sit well with you.
The thought of me redecorating my mind, removing the picture, and taking the nail from the wall, didn't agree with your picture on the opposite side.
You rather that I changed my picture, a tweak here, and a new color there, so I wouldn't be gone off your wall completely.
I had this picture entangled in my mind of how things were supposed to be when you got here.
Now I know you may not come, because other pictures are being shown by a gallery much better than I, but "friends, lets be best friends."
The thought of you swapping my picture with hers enraged me like never before.
Enough to never draw again.
Enough to never publish from within.
I had this picture entangled in my mind of how things were supposed to be when you got here.
You got hung up in her gallery, didn't you?
{r.h}
