I want to feel the breeze upon my face
from high upon the mountain once again
I wish to know the shape of your lips,
the touch of your hands,
and the smell of you near me
once more,
Could we speak,
once in a while,
to know your voice
in more than just a fading memory.
I do try,
to remember the texture my fingers felt,
on that day of love we spent.
Coconut oil on your face,
making my hands stick
and gliding across my cheek
both soft from the oil
and hard from the stubble.
I do try,
to believe in what you said
in that letter I have not read
for too long now it seems.
I ask myself why,
and the only real answer i receive
deep between the memories,
is that it hurts,
no more,
I cannot go on
living this way
holding onto a memory as if it were you.
Is not that what I said you did to her?
Perhaps I am seeing,
the other side of that coin.
Perhaps I can now understand you more.
And yet with all of this,
with my fear of reading the words you hurriedly re-wrote
on my day of leaving,
that you cried when you read to me
I still continue to avoid those words.
Perhaps the reality is too sweet,
daily life too mundane,
my fears suffocating
and my illusions are satisfying for now.