Strawberry cigarettes

I have this unspoken tradition of mine.
I "celebrate" it by myself every year, under the stars, with a pack of strawberry cigarettes.

I like wide open spaces that remind me of him.
Places where we fought, the place where we met.
Everything so wide open.
But it's been too long, and now I can't exactly remember how he looked like, how he felt like when we touched.
But I do remember who or what is not him. and that is everybody and everything else.

Ah, why couldn't I just have felt this sad on Valentine's Day? Just like everybody else who was less than happy.
Why do i have to feel this sad on one of the happiest days in sunken garden?
Because he didn't leave me on Valentine's day. Although we fought alot on then.

I don't know why he even agreed to meet up with me then, we had freshly broken up (one of the many many times that we did) and I asked if he wanted to go to the UP fair instead. We got there, we were both quiet. And I hate quiet. Because back then, the only time he was quiet was when he didn't know how to say something (in English). So this time he was quiet because he didn't want to speak.

I can only remember walking around happy groups of people wishing I could imbibe a little bit of what they were feeling. I remember picking a fight, just so he would talk, throwing my car keys in the grass (which frustrated the hell out of him because he had to find it). We went home holding hands, but not hearts. He was leaving the country in a few days and wouldn't be back.

The next day, I went back to that fair by myself. So frustrated, It took me a couple of attenpts to light the cigarette I was trying to smoke while making my way throught the young crowd of students from here and there. Then I realized what my problem was, I was lighting the wrong end of the stick! That made me realize wht a wreck he made me into.

So tonight, there again I will be, with my strawberry cigarettes. Trying to push away these feelings of hurt still left inside of me.