The sadness strummed my heart to the tune of a Spanish guitar. Each chord was a lullaby of days passed, moments lost and dreams that would never be.

He was like rain, a subtle nudge to the soul. He arrived quietly, often without warning. At times he'd trickle slowly through her mind, a gentle passing, but before she could run for cover she'd find herself drowning in his memory, flooded with heartache all over again.

She dreamt of being saved, but even she knew no northern light, no guided path could lead her home. She was a wanderer and her gypsy heart could never be tamed.

Life is prolonged heartache with intermittent intervals of contentment.

It's crazy, how you've stayed with me. After all this time, I'm still fighting your war between heart and mind.

And in the end I came to realize that I was just as broken as all of them. All the people I tried tirelessly to put back together again, was nothing more than a selfish pursuit to somehow make myself feel whole again.