This world is hardly reminiscent of the one I used to know – late summer nights spent in my version of suburbia. I would walk through those winding crescents and boulevards, before sitting on a lone swing overlooking the waters – praying for a life with floor-to-ceiling glass windows.

The leaves changed colours and fell altogether, so I packed my Jetta with everything I’ve ever owned and left you in a snowy city before Christmas’s heat.

My mind constantly toys between the two extremes, for how does the heart forget? Oceans apart, yet I long for those days when we would lay in bed, your eyes on mine, and a smile so sweet I had to lean in and taste. But I’ve always been in love with my own romanticized past, so I drag my head across the floor to shake off that moment of weakness.

This spectrum of highs and lows, it continually tugs at my sanity as though I cannot conquer those demons. As I have aged, they too have manifested into forms I can no longer trace. Yet every once in a while they appear at my doorstep and I, unprepared, cave altogether. And this game, tried and played, reels me back in once more.

But this time, I swear, is the last.

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