One of the last things she said still ran through my head. It was late May and I'd just broken up with my girlfriend of a year. Heartbroken I was moving back north tomorrow. We were sitting on her bed as I packed when she said it “well I guess you're not Ivan anymore Ingrid.” Tears fell from my face how could she say that? Why would she say that to me? She was the one who helped me find myself. Now here she was taking away from me. Over my dead body was I gonna let her do that. Not after all the things she put me through I'll he damned.

Picture Day

This poem came to me in the last few minutes.
As I lay here in my bed trying to sleep, it just came to me. I don't really know why, but I think my muse might just be nocturnal...
Strange how the best ideas, come at the worst possible times...