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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2190611
Rated: E · Short Story · Drama · #2190611
First love will always be ‘the first,’ till the end of our lives.

Irreplaceable 'first love'

We danced one night together, till the morning light, though, we lost each other, when the sun rose high and bright.



I lose my sight into the white fluffy clouds rolling over the immense blue summer sky

as I lie on the green carpet of tender fresh grass and tiny yellow flowers. There is a majestic pine tree in front of me with large green branches. It seems to be my only companion at the time, both of us sharing the same destiny of silence and solitude. At least the pine tree does not have to encounter the most exciting and painful thing on earth: Love. Or maybe I am wrong? Maybe trees feel love. Maybe their love is even more profound than a human's love. Yet, the pine tree knows 'YOU and ME.'

The place is not far from the centre of Timisoara - an old European city with romantic restaurants, ivy-covered antique buildings and Renaissance gardens with scents of soft pink roses hanging over pergolas. It is quiet here, so quiet that I can hear the voice of my soul, I hear its yelling echoing in solitude. The warm summer air gently caresses my face, as you always did, leaving a tender shudder to slide over my body. My sight is resting on the brown wood bench under the tree. It was our bench. It still has our shadows on it, the shadow of two 'crazy in love' teenagers. I still hear your whispering on it. Your voice always heated my body:

"Ana, please, look deep into my eyes. What can you see there?"

"Love," I whispered to you, "I can see pure love, Adrian."

Now, my heart is nothing more than a burning place, a bleeding wound nourished with the fire of a continuous pain. You are gone. The scary thought comes over me taking my breath away. I close my eyes and try to lie to myself that nothing happened. Lively memories start flashing before my eyes.


You and me, dancing in the dark on Lionel Richie's blues. The magic of being in love for the first time. The shudder of feeling your body so close to mine, the tender moves to the rhythm of the music, your warm breath gliding over my shoulders.

You and me, every day, your bright smile in front of the school entrance, the twitch of my heart, your beautiful face, and the echo of your deep voice when you were calling my name. As you were lifting me up and whirling me in the air I was giggling delighted. Slowly, you were letting my body slide over yours and kissing my lips softly, your pheromones were dispersing inside me, generating a sort of short amnesia. Nothing mattered, just 'You and Me.'

One day you told me:

"Ana, do you know that a human being is incredibly strong?"

"What do you mean?"

"Humans have an inner power that comes to the surface in difficult situations."

I just smiled.

"Adrian, if YOU say it then it must be true."

I always believed every word you said, because I knew how smart you are. So smart that some teachers would call you 'the genius.' I was proud of you, but at the same time I felt so insignificant compared to you. I struggled to pass the exams, except literature and history, which were always my passion. I even did not have a family to support me.

My fingers caress some frail blades of grass, as I always used to caress your silky brown hair. Buzzing, a bee is circling over a flower, while not far away, in the same vacuum of air, my soul is flying around, searching desperately for yours.

Every morning, we took the light rail to the school. Sometimes, I leaned my head on your chest to be close to your heart. Your heart was my home.

"You are not alone, you always have me, remember that."

"Ah, Adrian, I wish my father could be alive and meet you."

You took me protectively into your arms, caressing my hair. You always loved my long brown hair.

I am going mad. Now, you are gone. I squeeze the ripped grass into my hand and drag myself towards the tree. A sharp pain runs through my whole body, freezing and numbing my cells. You, my best friend, my lover, my family. How could I ever forgive myself for what I did to you?

The sunset releases its last rays over the city. People seem to enjoy the summer days on the small river that crosses through, listening to relaxing jazz music. Now, I can hear the music. I try to stand up, but my body feels numb. The reality hurts. Every music tone hurts me. Even people's smiles and their seeming happiness hurts me. I hear your voice, again and again.

"Ana, I love you, I love only you on earth!"

Our love always felt like the mirage of an angel. Could ever an angel die?

Now, even the sunset seems to grieve for our loss. Only two birds are chirping carefree on a thin dried branch. 'Chirp, chirp, chiiirp.' I don't care. I shiver. I shiver from the pain of losing you.

My heart is screaming but nobody can hear it. Why? Why did I dance with a stranger? Why did I kiss him in front of you at that damned party? After all immense love you gave me, after so much happiness with you, why did I hurt you so much? I can't explain it to myself, as there is no reason why I did it, and that makes me mad.


I still see your eyes, blurred and filled with pain. You were dancing with another girl, so tight as with me, just to hurt me back. The dice of our destiny was thrown and changed our lives forever. As we left, we only said 'goodbye' to each other. Just "goodbye." In a few seconds, the angelic feeling of "You and Me" was scattered away from the wind of our destiny. Here in the park I feel close to you. Our memories are here. I will come here every day, even though I know, I will never see you here again. You will never forgive me, as I will never forgive myself.

I start to feel a little spark of energy in my body. Maybe it is the energy you told me about once, the energy that comes in difficult life situations. I sigh deeply and slowly stand up. Still deep in thought I am walking home.

One day, the pain will disappear somewhere inside us, hidden in the depth of our hearts. Sometimes, starved of love, it will come out, it will haunt like a ghost through our park, in front of our school, on our bench, on the river - it will nourish itself with memories.

First love is unique, not only because it is pure, innocent, dense in romantic moments and dreams, but also because first love will always be 'the first,' till the end of our lives.



© Copyright 2019 LauraMustetiu (lauram28 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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