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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1998019-Nothing
Rated: E · Fiction · Death · #1998019
Nothing important
It’s not that we didn’t try to stay together, alright? We did everything we could. The very first days spent together were the memories we latched onto the strongest. Why? The reason wasn’t really the reason. We pushed the reality out of the way--left it hidden behind in what we hoped would be the past and convinced ourselves to believe in a beautiful lie. Watching the skies circle, we kept count. We counted the seconds between strikes of lightning and danced in the rain as the thunder roared overhead. At night the window became our television. The window—our window—it’s boarded shut now. Her breath as my canvas. Finding secret fingerprints everywhere that can only be seen from one particular angle at one specific time of day is bad enough without seeing her condensation doodles or ghostly lips floating among diamonds in the sky every time I dare to face the past—our past. We fought against forever and forever won. We did put up one hell of a fight though. The real reason our love had such strength was our unity against an immortal enemy. But together, on the same page, our love was bound by anything but her limited time—our limited time. We almost had it. Dammit.



We thought the memories would be enough to last forever if—when that day finally came. I pray this longing for her ends. We spent three years together in life—our life--and not a second was wasted. Every moment was accompanied by a camera, video camera,  diary entries, mementos acquired by blinking or sneezing or using some random thrift shop bathroom at the exact moment she was hoping I would. She was full of surprises. All the home videos, the memories, the time spent so desperately together, the precious keepsakes, hidden pages in the most secret of places--the collection of our youth—have the opposite effect of what was her intention. It’s not about me anymore. I can’t possibly exist without her. I’ve been planning this walk I'm about to take for a week; not really planning, more like juggling. Juggling...well several balls that have been hollowed out. Empty as I am, I can’t take it anymore. I refuse. She lied. She lied she lied she lied. She said I was strong enough, but she’s a liar. Just a beautiful liar, we both were. I wish we never existed. I wish this all could change. I wish her name was Evila Dawn Monroe. I wish her name wasn’t engraved on a slab of granite above where her coffin lay buried beneath a metric ton of dirt while her body slowly rots away into oblivion without our memories together keeping her warm and safe forever.



Hopefully, if everything goes as planned, this will be the last walk I ever have to take without her stride to match the journey--our journey. I may not be strong enough to make it without her, but today I'm strong enough to pry all the boards from the window frame. I stare through her softly printed lips, through the skies of yesterday spent and beyond the window of our past lives. Without a thought or sound I simply breathe.



I kiss her printed lips goodbye one last time and forge new paths through the time passed, tracing lightly through her window doodles, then I decide that one more nap just simply will not matter in the long run. I begin falling asleep. I lick my lips and taste her lip balm the same as when we used to kiss.
© Copyright 2014 Evram Spoken (diamond_skies at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1998019-Nothing