I used to know you. Now I don’t. It’s funny how accustomed we grow to losing everything we expect to possess—it slowly becomes normal.

     Our memories of yesterdays were like soft summer dreams that you live for one passionate night and then are gone. I don’t do magic or even believe in it, but tell me, is there any other explanation for how quickly, how easily, you disappeared from my life? I could close my eyes and imagine you beneath my hand, folds of a whispery smile in the corner of your mouth, and open them to have you there. Awakened by my imagination, you can be an eagle, you can be anywhere. But I really only wanted you here. Fly home.
     We can pretend that everything is just how we wish it to be, but before we know it, the mask is gone and we are left bare with the truth starting us in the eyes, burning alive in our own fire. The worst part is knowing how long it took you to collect those branches, those twigs, those stumps which fuel the flame burning your only desire. Yet, the flame is your desire. I was selfish. I burned more than my desire—yours. Only, would you stay? I can honestly say that I never neglected you, only failed to see. Blind, left on the corner by you. I’m still wondering when it will be okay to cross. I miss you.
     Sometimes the desire burns so brightly I can almost feel my heart shattering and I almost let myself go but you taught me better. I let the quiet settle and sit in the dust like the pennies you find in between the couch cushions. They must have a lot of time to think. I’m starting to forget the good things we had, and now I only see the dark. It burns around a shadow of you and never lets me forget that you’re gone.
     I was attacked by my own dog, my own heart, and my own love. Where is it? I lost it along with my keys and sanity. This was because of your presence, also its sudden end. I wrote down all the things I loved and left them in a book at the bottom of the shelf for better times; times when I could maybe handle a few of the things that I hated the most to remember.
     Special goes tomorrow. The used book store is letting them go fast—the ones in the box for only a dollar; the ones in the chair only two; the ones I forgot to keep only three. Funny how we can put a price on memories. Even funnier? How you can take mine.
     Everyday it gets a little easier but time is just a number that keeps rising and falling like a heartbeat. It makes me hate the distance; hate the silence. Now I hate you, me, love, the list goes on. And hate is a disease—an epidemic. That means I’m cursed, incurable, my minutes are numbered just like time. Thump-bump, thump-bump. But who knows how long it will beat. I just remind myself to keep breathing and stop counting the cracks in the sidewalks because I can’t fear anymore.
     The sun in my eyes is like the fire, desire, and I can’t help but keep thinking of you as I think of not looking down. You are my shadow.
     I used to play a game with people I had met; we asked each other what we wanted most in the world, right then, and I used to say to fly. Sometimes I wonder what my life would be like if you were still here. My automatic answer is, simply perfect.
     There is a thunderstorm in the forecast. I love rain; it washes everything away.