Who She Is

August 10, 2012
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She is a pair of baby blue eyes watching you. There is a lawn chair by the fire were she sits in her summer shorts and my old football jacket. The radio is blasting, and she is singing every song. She is a smile as I walk over to her, leaving the crowd of friends behind me. She is a perfect kiss; and I can taste the whiskey from her ruby red lips when the nights get too long. She is a marshmallow I burn when I am too busy lessening to one of her jokes.
She is a pair of old skinny jeans dancing with no care in the world. She is the way we were dancing on that old dirt road one night; with the trees dancing in the wind, and the midnight moon watching. Or the soft scent of lavender when she takes my hand and pulls me towards her. She is a perfect night, which I hold on to.
She is the way she fights when the going gets tough. She is the way she slams the car door instead of whispering stay. And I am the one who waits for her till the morning sun come up out of the horizon. She is the one who cries when she sees me standing outside her house, in the same cloths from yesterday.
She is a football game in the middle of September. She is a drum beat in the wind. She stands on the bleachers in her red and black, cheering with the rest of the crowd. She is the happiest when I kiss her after scoring a touchdown. She is the reason why I keep win, just to see those stars in her eyes. She is the reason why I skip every after party or those nights that I can’t ever remember.
She is a Saturday morning with no planes for the future. But no one has any plans here in this little town. She is a party at six in her old black heals, and pure white dress. She is a party-all nighter and a church girl on Sunday mornings. She is the midnight moon in the dark night sky, which she loves to watch. She is a crowd of people who say everything, to only three words which are my life.
She is the picture in my wallet, the light at the end of my tunnel. She is the simple words which can move a crowd. She is the words whispering in my ears when I don’t know what to say anymore. She is a cuss word when she kills another plant I buy her. And she is a laugh when I hand her another. She is an old song which I wrote for her the first day I saw her across the room. She is the storm that walks into my life every time I see her. She is the city, with the bright lights and the brighter dreams. But she is always one too many secrets which I hold in my heart.
She is the morning when it all changed to quickly. She is a car which drove away in early August, leaving a few eighteen years of her life in the dust. She is one long love letter and an even longer phone call, I got one Friday morning after missing her. She is a bright future which is not mine anymore. She is never going to be next to me like she was after high school graduation. She is an old tattoo on my arm which brings back too many memories. But that was when late night guitars would play and she’d tell me she loved me under the disco ball.
And I am the boy she left in a small town. Where the corn grows high in the fall and rumors travel faster. I am the boy she told “I fell in love with someone else.” And I am the boy who made the biggest mistake by letting her go. And when it all went crashing down, I am the only one left dreaming those dreams she had.
She is a diamond ring and an answer I still am waiting for. But she is a house where they live together. Where the lights never go out, and busy people walk the streets. She is a new life while I sit and wait for her to see the mistakes of yesterday. Where ever she is, I’ll be waiting. I am the boy who is still in love with her. And she is everything I ever wanted.

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writer3499 said...
Aug. 15, 2012 at 10:53 am
This is beutiful in a really sad way! Great story! Would you mind checking out some of my work?
Angelea replied...
Aug. 15, 2012 at 9:15 pm
Ohh thanks; I am happy you liked it.
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