It must of been ten years since she passed.
Most days are easy. If I have a target, some set goals, or a solid pattern; I usually keep going and going and going. But some days; some days, I catch a thread of a memory of her and my day unravels.
I can still hear her voice.
And when my thoughts wonder; she materializes. I can see her face. The very image that will likely drive me insane. The same image that likely already drove me insane. With a deep breath, she animates. She smiles. She pouts. She blushes. She gets angry. She forgives. She messes up. She gets aroused. She smiles again.
I can sketch the emotion of her lips. She would whisper, “my love”. Hold back for fear that I wouldnt understand her. Hide when she gets close. Run when she should have stayed. Stayed when she could have reach. Gave up when she should of have faith. She was my home. She was terrified of me. Terrified at how I made her feel. She speaks but her eyes lie.
…the days, I catch myself eating my favorite powdered chocolate; I can still remember her yelling at me, nagging me. When she had enough; she would nurture me to keep the lid on it. She smiles. She pouts. She gets angry. And she smiles again.
I still remember the day, I lost her. I could feel my heart give up. I sat there gasping for air. I can feel my pulse. My soul sunk, unwilling to put up a fight. It hurt me. I cannot hug her again. Nor talk to her again. Suddenly, every argument vanishes. Every sad moment pales in comparison. I choke on life, my only solace, death.
I wanted to say good bye. I wanted to cry but I didn’t want that to be my last memory. I didn’t want sorrow to override the love.
I wanted to be angry, not at the expense of how much I cared. I didn’t want it to change me. I couldn’t stop that it changed me.
I still remember her. I guess after 10 years all I have is the memories of a girl, who loved a boy. And a boy who loved the girl.
She smiles. She pouts. She gets happy. He lets her go. He cries. And she leaves.
RIP -> though I sleep, the pain keeps my soul awake.