Where she watches, by her golden perch or her sapphire throne.

Summer.
Thats where you should find me.
In the Summer of the year, summer of your mood, summer of our lives.
Summer's firefly eyes and sun induced sighs.
Through the haze of the heat and the weaving wavelengths of light,
where the cut grass mixes with the sounds of children playing, and birds calling your name.
Where the song the cicadas sing tells the sun its time for bed, and to kiss you with the final rays of daylight before the moon bathes the world in silver.
Thats where you should find me.
Because the harsh summer sun, isn't really that at all.
She's just a fellow wanderer, whose mind may pick you apart, but only to love you, and to know how to catch you should you fall.

I wouldn't trust a halloween romance anymore than I'd trust a bar-room marriage. I know the sound waves are bouncing around; I wish you would hear me.
But thats the kind of advice that just floats aimlessly around, because though everybody sees it, no one would dare reach for it.

If you'll take one thing, I hope its that to step outside that which you know, that which you've never changed, if even only to slide a toe across the line, you'll start to understand why you need to shift. Just to find the sweet spot; the sweet spot between here and there and what you used to know, and what you've always known but forgot to hear.