Broken tailights, and mended wounds.

It's been a long time, in more ways than one. For the first time I have an endless supply of material, but a crippling fear of writing. A fear of resentment, a fear of rejection, a fear of sounding like an apathetic angst filled, confused little boy.
Old feelings collide head on with those which I have never experienced. I feel so liberated yet restricted, like an eagle bearing a ball and chain. Oh, how I long to spread my wings and fly home, back into waiting arms which protect me from feelings such as these.
Returning to the scene of the crime she pleads her case. With her intentions on trial her lips take the stand.
"I never want to hurt you again." she promises through trembling lips, as watering hazel eyes beg for acceptance. She pushes all the right buttons and goes through the familiar motions. We haven’t missed a step; we know this 200 thread count dance like the back of our hands.
That familiar laugh escaped your lungs so many times that day it put the dreams to shame. We ran the roads, wind in our hair, and the past behind us, like the setting sun retreating into the glistening river.
"This connection is once in a lifetime, people wait forever to feel like this." you say while running your index finger down my shaking thigh. If this is so unique, why throw it away? Why continue your search?
On that sweaty July day I found what I was looking for, wrapped in an exterior thriving on social endeavors and laws left broken.
You led me to our hideout. Our sanctuary from society, and the sweltering heat. You planted a seed of hope, and used a confusion based fertilizer to aide in its growth.
We traveled back in time that night. We made the journey three times. Three, just like the white roses from December of 2002.