#ihaf

i took a trip into orlando by myself this day. one of many in this season. i was on the top floor of a parking garage, next door to this coffee shop they had heard of and we had went to on several occasions. i was in the thick of writing a record i never knew i needed, and one i knew deep down they were afraid of. i was almost entirely care-free. i was caught up in a web that lasted 3 years that ended in silence. ivory keys, dust settling on window sills, and heard bells with a familiar face at the altar. leading masses into hell, a red candle held to my throat dripping wax onto my hands. encasing my form for their likeness. i grew out of it and from it. i remember they really liked this ‘side’ of my personality. the side that would take a day-trip an hour away to set up a self-timer and take this photo. i spent my entire life wrapped up in writing this project that was like a ticking time bomb. the chaos that was entertaining to watch, but never be too close. but this was the ‘chaos’ that would call at 3am to check on them and willing to bring them soup before the sun rose. i was kind. i was tender back then. i was a form of innocence to delicate to touch. like baby’s breath and roses in a glance. a 100 midnight conversations in coffee shop and church parking lots. i gave too much, i think. that’s okay. i realize i wasted a lot of time, wasted a lot of poetry, and wasted a lot of myself back then. if anything - i wish i could get her back, i look in the mirror and wonder how. 

now or never. eyes closed.