brittface
"I promise" He said as he stepped out into the rain. It seems to always be raining when something sad is happening. I wondered if he'd keep his promise? Would he return to me? Dear God I hoped he would. He kissed my hand and walked on to the street. "Wait" I yelled but the wind carried my voice away. In seconds he was gone, down the road and out of my life. I walked back inside and looked at the unmade bed. I wanted to curl up and never leave
He was my salvation, I told myself. He was going to save me, he was going to take me far away from this place and he was going to be exactly what I needed. But I had to screw it up. I let him go, when I should have followed.
The wind sent chills down my back, I shivered in response. I held on to myself tighter, as if maybe I could pretend it was you holding me. That you were here beside me, with me and not there. You're so close, I could reach out and touch you, yet you're so very far away. I put the flowers on your grave and then walked away, pretending that you were the one holding me.
When I was little I was fascinated with gardening. The idea that tiny seeds became big oak trees was amazing to me. To be able to plant something so small and watch it grow? How magical. I always heard love was like that. A small seed of a connection turned into true love but for me it was different. When I fall in love it was all at once, like one the big oak trees falling to the ground.
It was the same routine, day in and day out. I thought, perhaps, about switching it up. I thought maybe I'd get a tea instead of a coffee, or for lunch have soup and a sandwich. But no, I was stuck doing the same thing because I was too scared of change. After all change took him away from me...
We made a nest of blankets and stayed in bed all day. The only reason we would get up was for food or to use the bathroom. We would whisper and kiss and cuddle.
We would chat until the early hours of the morning, as the sun began to peak over the trees. We would drink Jack Daniels and smoke cloves. Our hands would brush and our lips would meet and we would just be together in his apartment forgetting the rest of the world.
The daily grind was the worst part. She woke up every morning with a funny taste in her mouth and when she drank her morning coffee is tasted like ash. She would go to work and come home and go to bed and that was all. That was all she could do because if she did anymore she would think, and remember but doing nothing was hard too. It was hard just to be.
The architecture of the city was so old and beautiful. Walking down the street you could just hear the whispers of thousands of memories and secrets that live in the walls of the old buildings. The lives of the people never really forgotten.
There was a pink floyd poster on the wall. I remember it so clearly. It's the one with the four girls at the pool with their backs to the camera and they have painted images on them. I stared at that poster for hours. That night I couldn't sleep. The events of the night kept replaying in my mind.
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writing since 2011 · 45 entries · 45 days shown up
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