Fall blew in, breaking leaves and hearts, in an inevitable march of death. The ravens crocked their piercing gazes as lovers grasped for freedom, unintended pain and hopeless dreams. The strong were demolished by weakness and pride threatened the walls of their castles. The weak hid in crumpled newspapers hoping to not be caught up as rebounds, short-term leased lovers or undesirables. The strong stood in plain view and emptied their corrupted hearts, pouring their souls into any vase that would hold them for a night. The night fell, hard. The sun woke up sleepy, dreaming of a moon forever out of reach – save the occasional one night stand of darkness.

We lived like this. I loved like this. Glimpses of love slapped me on the cheek. Eternal lovers were burned out in only years. No justice was found.  The cool air changed hot hearts, as the rain came in. And the rain did come in. Passion was drowned – a beautiful, illustrious bird trapped in a cage in a sinking ship called salvation. I swam away from the ship as only a captain could.

Memories of faces, interrupted by perfect breasts and sincere tears, haunted my pre-sleeping mind’s eye. The fathers and grandfathers die, slipping their souls into all of these ravens for me to look at, speechless. They look me in the eyes, unable to speak. Their dark eyes meet dark eyes of my own. The midnight days have pierced my sensibilities, leaving an overwhelming darkness. I live in there with all of my accomplishments and successes, but none of the people that love me.

I don’t remember feeling normal. I have always been an incredible overachiever, morally ambiguous and a good person. I love too deeply, forever and too fast. I am passion personified and sadness quantified. The red and the blue. The phoenix and the bluebird. I always get back up, and I always take my hits.

The fall came in to pull apart my life. It was deserved. It was surgical. It was just the beginning.