Wednesday, January 11, 2012

Memories of a Winter

How with my sight my stomach cramped up, with her smell my heart raced and standing there I was no longer cold. The wind would blow ice past my earlobes but all I could feel was the last time my breath was close to hers. My hands obedient; not moving in any way, even if she did, my legs frozen as a soldier to stand his ground, until the last goodbye. Then when the command was given then they would do an about face and march. Into the world, they would march and not look back. When she finally spoke my voice mixed with her’s in unison saying farewell. How my eyes did not blink, how they did not shed a tear, how my body tore my sight from her; I don’t know, nor do I want to know, because I just might cry to know that secret.


The feeling escaped like a water still let unplugged. Every step I took killed her inside me just a little, and the part of her that died inside me took a piece of me with it. Every step I took further away I died a little inside. Yet for a long time she was not gone from me, for a long time she was with me. The events between us, all significant, all beautiful, all worth a story at all of tomorrow’s parties. That would always stay, she would always be alive like I left her. As time would morph us into other people than the young ones we were when we met, she would be alive as I remember her in a moment in time. Eventually that is all she would be is a memory, something I was fond of but out grew, something beautiful that grew in my mom’s garden but one day while I was gone, died and something else replaced it.


One day we are to meet again and all that was a storm of love in my heart would have turned into a smile and a “nice to see you”. Behind it all, you touch your heart where you left her and where once you felt so much it hurt now is numb cold; she lives here no longer. It’s a smile, that’s all you can offer, all you can do now. Time has happened. Somewhere, sometime, something happened and now she is gone except as a memory, which is the same as a fairytale by this point. She was real though, touch your heart once again where you left her and that nothing you feel, cold and numb, that is a scar. She was real…and so was love for the first time.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

One day we are to meet again and all that was a storm of love in my heart would have turned into a smile and a “nice to see you”.

like this part...

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