Love Story

The title maybe a bit of a disclaimer. 

I mean, this very well could be a love story, but who is to say one way or another.  

Maybe one day it will be written down, but for now this is all there is.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . 

I want to tell the world about love and how it makes your heart burn

. . . a heart burn that even TUMS can't cure.

I want to tell about the pounding in my chest and about the smile that I can't wipe off my face, 

even with post wisdom teeth cheeks.

I want to dance around in circles as fast as I can just lie on the grass and watch the sky spin around me

. . . and for a moment it will seem as if time has stopped.

I want to tell about Happy Wednesdays

I want to tell about rocks on my widow late at night 

and bouquets of self-picked garden flowers, wrapped in twine.

I know some of you would swoon over hikes up the canyon,

eating a candle-lit dinner in a corn field,

meetings that last for 30 seconds- 30 seconds of complete joy.

I tell about the significance of pillows- lots of them.

I would tell you why this song makes me happy and why Bryan Ragan makes me laugh.

I admit getting porch lights flashed at me and being late for curfew.

I want to tell how it feels to be vulnerable.

I want to share the fear and hope I have in each breath.

I want to admit that I tried my hardest to ignore my strongest desire

I want to tell about April snow storms at the park.

I would include forehead kisses, holding hands, and white jumpsuits.

I want to write about patterns cut into lawn,

and about tears on my face that don't belong to me.

I want to make mention that all hasn't been easy

or simple and marvelous, sometimes pain was felt.

Heart aches happen, healing takes time.

Sorry is a valuable word, and when used sincerely can change perspective.

Maybe someday I will write this love story. . .

BUT 

today I can't.

I am sorry, I physically just can't do it.

It will make me cry, again.

I am moving,

going back to Logan.

I love Logan and I love everyone in Logan.

However,

moving means I am leaving here.

My home.

My family, all those I love.

My summer- oh, how good it has been to me.

I don't like saying goodbye.

                      xoxo,

                         Kels