A Love Story

When She Left

I haven't seen her in a year, not while lucid.

But when I let my imagination run wild, I see her.

Her hair is long, it trails her back; it's thick, dark and heavy, the kind of hair women envy.

Her skin resembles sweet caramel.

Her eyes are large, and black like coffee. Her glance so sharp it could cut through stone, I wonder if they've found a new victim to fixate on.

I'll see her today.

I'll tell her that I love her.

That I'm sorry.

I'll hold her tight in my arms, I won't cry, even if I want to. I'll let her know I've missed her. We'll lay on the bed of this motel 6, underneath the white comforter and hold each other until the sun rises. As long as I can hold her, little else matters.

She'll melt into my arms.

I know she loves me. But she won't say it.

Even in the dimly lit room, I can see in her sad eyes that she has something to say.

Her words sting like daggers,

----------------------------------------------------
"I know you're not going to find anyone else that loves you the way I did."

She's right.

"And you're going to have to live with that.

No one else felt the world stop when they caught their first glance of you.

No one else dreamt of your eyes.

Thinks of the green in November when the leaves are turning colors.

You might have someone love you differently, but not like I did.

Because you were the first person I offered my young, naïve heart to.

You were the one my heart held onto as I lost my innocence.

You're the one I  fear I'll always feel in one way or another.

And I'm sorry you were incapable of noticing such a beautiful thing.

But now you'll have to live with the fact that no one will ever love you like I did.

But I will never again leave my vulnerable heart to be damaged by your hands"