Monday, April 18, 2011

Cold Hands and Summer Days

I loved you long before I knew how...

That was my favorite shirt. I don't know why, but I've always looked good in yellow. It shone like the sun straight over us and all around us. Your eyes were the best part of my day speaking words to me much more sweet than anything that ever leaked from your forgetful mouth.

You were so much of heaven that I forgot to hate earth.
A peace in my chaotic mind.

When you looked at me... serenity met insanity and they bred beautiful babies who looked just like the space between our eyes.... stop. Take a breath.
Some call it fate, but I refer to it as creation.

Like waves meeting at the shore to kiss... our blue eyes. Blue eyes.

I might should have been a little more tactful when I told you never to wear that shirt again. I should have walked a little longer. It didn't really matter if there was a hole in my jeans, we should have kept walking.

My new flip flops were hurting my feet.

There it is...
I didn't want to tell you in the moment because I was embarrassed, but that's just how selfish I am.

I just wish you would have told me that you had a month to live. I promise that I would have kept walking. I promise.

I adored every rock you kicked.

It was the first time that I feared a good feeling and it felt like insanity pained like a goddess.

You always felt like a dream come true. A boy I stared at from across the room in middle school and barely dared to wish for.

You told me it was alright when I awkwardly walking in my body. You taught me to stop hating. You taught me to live before you died and I kept on mostly because I knew it was what you wanted. I wanted you to have my life, and I wanted your eternity. Ironically enough I got it on earth, but I never meant for it to be measured in months. I was thinking decades. I was thinking babies and foreign countries. I was thinking about us.

Your hand was cold, maybe it was a foreshadowing. It was the middle of the summer...

and your hand was deathly cold.

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