We will eat the strawberries of our love, true love. I will never forget the magic between us, the canyons we cross. The tug of war. Roses in the summer garden have blossomed. A sparkling constellation. Convincing doppelgängers of storms fly-tip in the moony eyes of fools, eyes of lovers, crevasses wide enough for oceans. Always running from the truth and finding places to hide, waiting for the cloudburst to end. I\'ve found the freedom in going with the flow, never knowing what\'s around the corner. At every landmark the china gets chipped. I never really could get over it, the heart wound. The invisible infatuation. I have come to know it well, the sweet embrace. Immersed in the salt from my tears, the electrolytes at 4 a.m. red-hot and glowing. I never want to go back to that dark place again, never want to be burned by the fires of solitude again. So I cut myself from the turnkey, from the fabric of the addiction, in the same way you would cut a slice of cake, in the same way ice could cut a face. At the hour on the dot I prepare for my medicine. Body waves. Earthquake vibrations. Sensitive to the sensation. I open the amethyst geode and marvel at the purples glittering in the brain, and watch the days turn into gold. When the hate fades. I\'ll come back to you, I always do. You know me. Never gone for too long. Never leaving you waiting. With cracked knuckles at the wintertide, at the interruption. Pausing but only for a second. I\'ve adapted to the madness, and it no longer takes over me like it did before. I\'ve settled into the chaos at every turn. Smiling upon the rising of the morning sun.