I could barely work up the courage to hold her hand.
So we'd wander round the courtyard arm in arm instead,
Proud, yet sheepish.
Looking back I don't know why I ended it.
I was afraid I suppose.
I still am.
Bold and bright, colours flying from her full lips and dark eyes.
Bubblegum hair and festival freckles.
Laughter ringing in my ears, glistening in her eyes, and tugging,
gently, as the tide tugs the sand, at the corners of my lips.
She'd often share earphones, popping one into my ear and describing exactly how the music made her feel, before pressing play.
Like a ritual, each time.
Instead of smearing ash beneath your eyes, and burning a lock, for all the memory held in those dark strands.
She had so much to say, and it threatened to drown me.
It would have been so easy.
To let her pull me under, into her arms and hold me.
She was everything i loved, and everything i wasn't.
Beautiful, bold, vibrant and so full of life, she was the ocean.
She was a forest.
The curve of a cheek caught in evening honey sunlight.
Pollen haze drifting through a field.
Laughter and straw bails and electric lemonade freckled sunshine.
And she'd stood opposite me that day and grinned sheepishly.
And dear Apollo that smile tugged so hard at my ribcage.
I couldn't help but smile back, cheeks stained pink in admiration.
But I was so painfully, painfully shy.
I couldn't even bring myself to reach out and grasp her soft hands.
I could never bring myself to tell her.
And it ended so soon there wasn't even time to light a spark.
So soon, too soon, for me to say the things I held in my throat.
Watching her strum gently on her ukulele, always humming,
and me, distant and as still as rainwater.
No tides tugging her to my chest.
And I still regret leaving.
I threw away my yellow, because I was afraid.
I do hope I'll see you again, my dear, though it meant little to you. Thank you,
You beautiful fool