i remember
a memory —
it isn't mine.
someone else's.
being the kid we used to be
(yes, i'm writing it in their pov)
we drank lemonade under the summer sun,
watched the bulb in the sky brighten,
heard the promises of forever
where no voice resonated.
echoes of my woes
learned to yearn within these walls.
it's a contrast: sweet, distant, aching.
have you ever heard of feeling nothing —
like the silence after chaos,
a void so deep,
there seems to be nothing it's composed of at all?
an absence that has screamed louder since its presence.
i listen to skyfall as i write,
and no, the sky hasn't fallen —
but it seems it would have felt better if it did.
a way to express what i feel deep inside,
since the breaking.
there are regrets.
like a flower blooms under the sun,
my regret bloomed under the skin of love,
whispered between lines,
composed of all the maybes it could have been —
the ideas, the fantasies,
versions of you that never came to just be.
perhaps i'd dreamt different —
not of someone,
but of how things seemed to me.
but it's nighttime, and i sit,
and like a building collapsing, i think —
stars falling, heavens opening, illusions crashing,
my heart strengthening.
it rubs painfully against the chest — or so.
i wish it hurt just a little bit more,
for i feel it tends to lack intensity.
how you simply waved a goodbye —
i felt it like waves in the sea.
yours was late, brief —
mine drowned, delivered me to the ending.
i have my window open.
i'll try to describe the night sky.
it still seems impossible,
like it did that night.
the stars — they watched me silently.
maybe they witnessed the fall as well.
and then i wondered —
did i even know it all that well?
maybe they were the lovers who never made it home.
maybe they were the parallels to what was meant to be alone.
i kinda hoped it'd be one way —
either you'd become a star, or me, or us together.
and whoever remained would have watched it
as we grew old together.
alas, what remains of it now?
the memories, the hauntings —
are they simply the nothings in between the heavier things?
wave after wave,
they take me with them,
bring me back
to where i began.
we were kids once,
with lemonade hearts —
not the sugary kind,
but the one filled with zest and a spark.
the sky remembers all that i've forgotten.
the same track on repeat —
i wish i'd heard it the night that brought me to hit rock bottom.
i want to write and write and write
and let it devour you and me
and all the eyes that ponder over these words whole.
for that nothing
felt like everything for a moment.
and i can't believe
you missed out
on becoming the lovers —
the ones i dreamt for us to be.
that was indeed just the end, then.
like the sounds of tires on gravel
when the track twists just right —
hold—wait—stop—
i need to catch up to my memories.
but what of all the ones you left with?
bled into them: the last gaze, the lasting wounds.
oh, look — it crumbled.
had you promised to stay
and followed it through,
i'd have torn the sky apart
with bare hands,
set ablaze all those who came in our path.
but alas, easy way out —
i saw nothing (that was enough then),
never saw beyond you
(but now i see all of you).
and i shall wash away,
off the shore, at the edge of the boat.
i shall let go and watch.
you've slipped from my hands
like dust in between fingers.
the sandglass broke,
so did the beats at which my heart spoke.
i wish you the best.
i shall hope you find rest
in places that aren't filled with me.
it's a closure,
it's my closure —
turns out,
that's all i've ever seeked.
got the words, made the prompt, wrote something- i think i entered a different head.
