Indian Summer

I don't think i've ever gotten over anyone i've ever been in love with. I think i'll always be getting over all of them. I was reminiscing tonight, on the drive home, about a love lost. I felt my body react, my heart react before I understood why. I was over her, in my mind. My heart, though, had other agendas. It reminded me, slapped me across the face with those pliable, yet somehow immovable emotions that I had experienced so many months ago. And I felt myself fall in love again. Maybe this time, because of a memory so vivid. A memory of soft words and gentle touch mixed together with roaring, dangerous, careless passion. A flame so large that it soon burned low,even as I tended to it.

Then, when that memory drifted from me, I saw the effect it had. Like indian summer, it had, in the midst of the cold, in the midst of the bleak, reminded me of the warmth. Of the sun. So turning inward with new found warmth I saw them. I saw the people I had given parts of my heart, parts of the essence of myself to. I smiled at the end of an insane day. I smiled to think that I had loved so completely. I glowed with hope that someone experience even half of the perfection i've had in my life. Even through the worst times, the darkest times, I have been blessed with light. Even as my indian summer faded, I was comforted with glimpses of something I rarely see. My own personal heaven, hidden there beneath all of my hells.