I am very excited to see Portland. Grey skies, wet pavement. I can almost smell the trees from here. I can see the leaves glistening in the day light. I can hear the rain pounding on the hood of my car as I drive home from work. I can hear the drum circles on hawthorne. I can feel the sticky heat in Laurelhurst park as we attempt to BBQ. I can feel the grass making my legs itch as we act like children on the first real day of summer. I can see the sun shining through the trees. The bright blue sky.
I can’t wait to see her. To wrap my arms around her bridges, and division streets. She knows me better than I know myself. She knows just how to push my buttons, take me from happy to sad. Oh city of roses,I wish you had different memories of me. Next time I'm gonna be better to you...
Now, I have to leave...and It's like all the sudden I can't feel my fingers or toes. My eyes are piling up with the baggage of what I am leaving behind here. I don't want to let any of this go, but i pricked my finger on the last thorn and i've got to fix these wounds first.
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