The memory of her
I have heard there’s a secret place where you keep your feelings hidden under honey jars to keep them sweet. I have heard that if the jars are ripped open, eternal love will over flow from streams in your heart, to water all the dried paths that you fear to walk on.
A whisper floated to my thoughts, and assures my fragile being that one day I will receive a letter that you forgot to post on our first anniversary. To remind me of all the butterflies that were born the first day we uttered words to each other. To unravel all those misplaced memories we crafted, when time chased after the moon and stars to remind us that our time was limited.
There was a time when your head rested in my arms and each time it felt like the first time.
There was a time when every word you said, became every word unsaid.
Yet again, our time was limited.
Last night I closed my eyes again, your portrait appeared once more, not for the 10th nor 100th time. Our eyes re-introduced to each other and reminisced in search of the infinite undefined look that curved the pathway to your soul, I crawled and as I was about to run, you looked away and I got lost.
I remember how the look in your eye used to take me to foreign lands that only the wonders of the world and planets knew of.
How it left me naked and sent shivers from untapped corners of my being. How it recited nostalgic rhythms in tongues, a lullaby that stretched its arms and broke thorns on the milky-way to my caged heart.
For the first time, it took a deep breath and welcomed you.
This morning, I woke up with a soaked pillow.
Another reminder of the winter season between what used to be us.
Submit your writing, photos or anything else to HOLAA! email: firstname.lastname@example.org
*leave a comment on the post, you can write it under a different name and your email will not be published.*