I glide across these moments in my rear view mirror effortlessly. The flash of headlights draws my mind to thoughts from an ancient time. She was beautiful. She had been beautiful. And I would have given her a love story for the ages. She comes and goes now, in words, black and white, that light up my screen. Yet those autumn days sink back down into the reservoir that they surfaced from.

And here I am, with a man ignorant in both love and life. He has a good heart, a stubborn head, and a tendency to trace the conversation down paths that need not be visited. I stare off into the darkness of the night, the inky sky reminding how heaven’s field has not changed in the twenty-one years that I have lived underneath its reign. And that love, the words I used on that teary-eyed conversation a couple weeks past, they were hollow fabrications drawn from the cinemas that perpetually play in my mind’s domain.

He does not understand. No. He does not understand my world. My world was built with slabs of brick and mortar; a castle in the sky. His world is this world. An acceptance of the social chaos that seethes.

I’ve long painted my universe with every shade of grey and gold, until my mind drifted to cruise control. And now I revisit the childhood haunts that motioned me over to a state of un-grace that has since poisoned my soul. I refuse to yield to the masses.

I refuse to abandon the Manhattan skyline and visions of the Gold Coast for a man who will never understand beyond his limited spectrum of being.

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