You always asked why I lived here when I hate the heat.

I'm not sure, but I really do dislike it.

The heat used to be Siana and I laying in our underwear while fanning ourselves to the hum hum hum of the fan.

Quiet.

You love the quiet.

I remember the first rain shower of the summer.

We ran outside and began to dance and laugh. I lay on the warm wet asphalt while my hair bled under me, and you opened your heart wide to the sky.

Our days were spent in a smoky room. I used to count the freckles on your arms while you held the pipe to my lips.

"Pretty girls don't light their own cigarettes." I'd look you in the eye as the flame from your fingertips shot between us.

You kissed me for the first time in the woods.

We were drunk off vodka and your lips tasted like a breath of fresh air.

Rough love was our name. If it even was love. My head hurts too much to be sure.

Two months later and my insides dropped seeing you again.

I'd rather run away than face you when you have a pretty blonde doll on your arm. Judging from her neck, you left your mark on her too.

Please please please forgive me for almost killing myself to our favorite song.

The three day diamond dust that ran from my dripping nose into my veins told me to do it.

I know it was wrong. You know you were wrong.

It's just that you were my summer rain during a time when the relief couldn't come fast enough.