THIS IS YOUR HEART. (My heart.)

This is the boyfriend never took the basting stitch off his suit jacket and the corner that holds NYC and Ladureé and pastel colors. 

This is the twitter messaging and the nap at 2pm and the little bowls from anthropology. 

THIS IS ALL OF THE GLITTER THAT COATED MY EYES. 

This is starting conversations and forgetting which lanes turn right and how much I hate shrimp. 

This is the white dishes and the boy with the red hair and the other boy with the red hair in Japan and the other boy in Japan and the other boy that I can't have for obvious reasons. 

This is how I stalled in the middle of the road and almost accidentally threw my apple out the window. (This is the times I've been pulled over.)

This is the highschool sweethearts and the highschool dropouts and the way my skin feels on the back of motorcycles. 

This is the reasons I can't fall asleep and the people I dream about and the people I DREAM about. 

This is the money I spend on lipstick and how I hate living in suburbia and the cold feet that only get warmer with socks. 

This is how I want to go sailing. 

This is Park City and Sundance and Philadelphia and the dead cactus plant  that is dead because of me and all the boys who've said they won't marry me because I'm bad with kids. 

This is the time I ran away and the whole neighborhood followed me and the small wooden train from my dad's seventh Christmas. 

This is how much I wish I still did cheerleading even though I know it was the right choice and the smell of my favorite perfume. 

This is the other end of the phone call and the soft voices to not wake my parents up and the secret I never told you. 

This is my love for you and the explanation I don't have for myself and my hope that we will find our way back to each other eventually. 

XR