Flashback...

He is standing under a streetlight,hands indicating exactly how much taller he'd like to be. I loved him then. In that moment. He holds my gaze and I know he feels the same. I had spent the year before in Italy, I lived and loved without him...2 days before I had grabbed my best girlfriend, an ill fitting straw hat and had showed up at a picketline he was walking in San Diego. I loved him in that moment. Now we were back in SF in our old neighbourhood and I wanted nothing more than to touch him. To tell him what I was feeling. To let him know that he had me at "Pecan Pie". That no one else mattered...but I never did. Within a year he was gone and I, broken, went back to Europe to avenge the death of that relationship.

I buried him. I wrote poetry and threw rocks at the sun. I drank bottles of wine and had dangerous lovers. I buried him...made plans, traveled loosely, buried myself in music, traded Europe for Central America and Central America for the Dirty Dirty. I loved recklessly and blindly. I hurt. I buried him and I forgot.

Flash Forward...

I am in Vegas, banging my head against the wall. He is irrational. He lashes out. I wish he would just ask me how I feel instead of putting up walls and pushing me away. After all this time, you'd think we could just relaz and enjoy each other.