Tonight, the air smells of sulfur from fireworks and I feel edgy. As the world explodes around me in distant bursts, I feel alone.

I am thinking of another Fourth of July. When we fought in my car, and some part of me knew I had lost you again. We would keep trying for a week or so, but that night was really the end of it.

So it's no surprise that I am thinking of you tonight.

I would like to think that you would be proud of me. I have this job that you encouraged me to go after. I can picture sitting in front of you to tell you about what I'm doing with The Grove and you would have a look like I was speaking pig latin, but you would listen. Maybe you never understood me but you knew what was important.

I used to admire you. You had this careless charisma that I envied. I have spent the last year trying to develop that in myself. And you, you have lost it. All that is left in you is the sharp edge that used to belong with your sarcasm. Somewhere you lost the humor.

I have seen too many couples fail or crumble to this point that I recognize all to well. In ways, I bless you for protecting us from that place where all you can do is fight. You always ended things before that point. Not that we never saw our share.

I wonder where you are tonight. I'm sure you're probably beyond coherency and I imagine you're wrapped around someone I would despise.

And you have probably never sat here as I am now, and felt that hot ache for the past. You probably don't even remember that Independence Day. Sometimes, I think you probably have forgotten that you ever loved me at all.

In the colored light and smoke from the sky tonight, I wish I could forget.