When you pull her in for a kiss, one hand caressing her jawline, the other in her mess of brown hair. Your breath hot and rapid, filling the smallest of space that together you create between lips, at least I know you are thinking of me.

When you finally kiss her, sucking the life from me through her ruby red lips, don't you dare close your eyes, boy, watch it flash before them.

A little girl riding in her father's truck every other weekend, leaving her mother, the only person to make her feel safe. Her green eyes wide, thumb in mouth, finger twirling hair. Tears take her by storm, a tsunami fills her eyes.

She is never the same.

Twelve years later she met you, held you at night, trusted in you with her deepest of fears. Never wanting to love someone because that meant they could hurt you and they will leave just as fast as they came.

She became as vulnerable as a baby bird, and jumped.

She flew alongside you, making your days more beautiful than ever. She created a warmth to dry all of your tears. She saw only you, you only saw anyone but her.

Six months ago, I was still yours, as you held her. She tilted her head to let you in and you kissed down her neck. Me, I am never the same.

Then, when you laid her down in my sheets, stained from the biggest waves I call my tears and she whispered into your ear, you should've taken that as a warning.

When you released into the night, a ghost of pleasure, a mess that can never be cleaned up. When she left you cold and lonely. You finally realized, I will not be there to warm you. My arms will never again hold you.

You will never be the same.

You will be afraid to love because loving means you can get hurt and they will leave you just as fast as they came.

I begin to think it was my fault, that I wasn't good enough.

But I have never been more wrong.

I had forgotten who I am when I was with you. Wasting all of my energy trying to please you, when the only pleasure you wanted was from other women.

Spending every ticking second thinking of you. I've found myself again.

I am a gypsy soul with no boundaries. No ropes to hold me back because, I am a blazing fire. I am made of all the colors of the visual spectrum.

I am creamsicle orange like the last rays of sun dancing on the tiny blades of grass. Gentle, warm, and lively, touching parts of people's lives they never knew were there, bringing out the best in them.

I am also deep blue like the darkest of the darkest oceans. Frustration, turmoil, and anger, all building up to a boil. In the end, it is tears that fall like rain. My brain a cloud of confusion and stress.

I don't regret, I learn. And the most important thing I have ever learned is that staying free and staying me is the best thing I can do.