In this world of black and white he was my colored picture.

        The month of July is usually filled with the celebration of our nation's independence. For me, the summer has a more profound meaning. This summer is is a day of chance, mending reanimate destiny, doom ruin.

        It's been such a long time since I last heard from him. Despite my choice, I miss him. At the end of our relationship I tethered in the doorway, un-noticed. Gathering all the courage in me, which wasn't a lot, I pulled the wings from the butterflies which remained in my belly. I realized that postponing the inevitable would likely be more damaging. So I committed the premeditated crime of the worse kind, the breaking of a heart. I attacked much like a rapist, knowing that my actions will forever hurt and scar my victim. For this injustice, I should be convicted and forced to register as a habitual emotional predator.

        Even though said relationship is dead (rest in pieces), the spirit of a love so great and strong will haunt me to my grave. I've arrived un-fashionably late in the wake of loss we've both suffered, and I've signed my name and, my tears in the guestbook. I make my way into the room where the corpse of true love lays rotting, burning the sight and putrid smell of death too soon, into my senses. Every step I take brings me closer to the dearest casket, which holds my decomposing sanity. I walk through the valley of deep shade, to find the closure needed to begin the grieving process.

        I love Kevin and will always pine for him, much like a widow in mourning; I will never completely be over him. We keep our greatest love for a long time; he was and always will be my greatest love. In my darkest hours I visit the graveside of the love and life we shared, the tombstone bears a proverb of emptiness, "I love you".

        I can feel a newborn wave of hurt breaking on the idle seashore of my mind. My single, final wish is that he's in a better place now.