Ice Cave

Dear John,

I wasn't really sure about what I could preoccupy myself with while I'm here, minus focusing on my actual problems like I'm supposed to be doing so. It gets really cold in this room at night cause the hospital doesn't spend money on heating. Lights are out at 9:30, which leaves me to just staring at the ceiling tiles and twiddling my thumbs.

I think of how we used to lay on your bed late at night and look at the glowing plastic stars on your ceiling. It wasn't much evident fun to everyone else but it was hours of amusement for us.

Or those times we'd simply lay out in my background on the grass and lay to ourselves. We'd trace the clouds with our nimble fingers and perplexed minds. You'd smirk when I'd argue with you about the cloud's shape.

I could've sworn that those times we would sneak food out of the corner store were simple figments of my imagination. But, they actually happened and with that said; all the other stuff must've happened as well.

Knowing that those times we'd make use of our time in tight spaces on the road, trying to be on the dl from everyone else, and we said "I love you" between sweaty kisses; makes me know I can't do this. It physically hurt to hear you spitting those words at me.

As much time as I build up my image of being "head strong"; I still have my weakness'. Maybe things do happen for a reason but I know that there tends to be more good than bad.

It's as simple as this;

once we threw our matches down into the gasoline you turned to oil and I turned to water. Simple as that.

Sincerely,

Jen