Golden.

Her hair was golden when we met, fiery red in the middle, and black in the end. just like our relationship. sweet when it began, a fierce and passionate middle, and a dark end. subconsciously she was signaling the change in seasons between us. I am a sentimental man.

Time travel is not impossible. it is uncontrollable, atleast for me. good, bad , boring, fun, peaceful, sexy, scary, disgusting, anything memories, they all pain me, scar me. there is no escape. But you Chloe, you pain me the most. Suddenly I’m in a knoll and the blue, cloudless, sky overcast us. not touching but deeply connected. I love this memory. Or is it fantasy? i can’t tell the difference these days. so many daybreaks and twilights have past since you were a constant in my world i can barely tell fact from fiction anymore. Were you real? Did it happen? Were you someone i went to school with? Saw on the bus? Or read in a book, and just pieced your beauty together better than i thought god could from magazines and daytime soap operas.

I still write you. I wrote you so many letters, but they sit, unread, with such stillness and quiet that would blow my eardrums on a bad day. I leave them next to the door, and everytime  i leave the house, every time, i pick them up with a determination i never feel anymore, that only you made me feel. They obviously do not leave the house. everytime i think of sending them, i think of something new to add, something left unsaid.

theres nothing you didnt say, nothing held back. every thought, every feeling, every useless emotional stance you took to my offensive nature. My walls were built by an infant with wild dreams in mad surroundings. they were nothing to you. You never knew them. And in your arms i never knew of them too. my walls, they would be as if pictured in a real world a scarred beaten, graffitied brick wall. faded from time and natured with a billion little marks from people beating at it day in and day out trying to reach the inside. all doomed to fail. Maybe all that constant abuse revealed a crack which you slipped through, or maybe there was an unbeaten path which you found, made all for you in the early time.

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