I think of you when the night is still and silent. Even the crickets have stopped their chirping in anticipation of winter’s icy breath during this transitional season. Autumn. My favorite season. I never did find out what yours was. I wonder if it’s summer.
Ah, yes, summer. Or was it spring when we came together for our brief time? In California, every month is summer unless it’s chilly, after all. I still reminisce about the ocean waves and how you lifted me up in play. I still smile at the memory of the way you placed your hands on my waist when we shared our playful Titanic moment. I’m not quite melodramatic enough to contemplate whether that was a sign that we would be short lived, but it’s a nice little side thought to romantically think before sweeping it away. I envision the thought as flicked aside with a thin, pale hand wearing clicking jewelry.
If I’d thought it would have gotten me anywhere, I would have talked to you instead of being rash. I doubt you’ll ever know that. All you are to me now is an idealized memory. I still recall the reasons I ended it, I still recall the pain your actions caused. I still remember all of it and I admit it haunts me. Loving you was life changing for me, even if I was ultimately nothing much to you. I still don’t know if it was real.
I know I don’t know you anymore, though. You don’t know me either. You never actually did, but now I’ve grown and transformed beyond the shadow that you made love to. I’ve had no other choice but to change. That’s the way of nature, after all: change and adapt, or die.
We came together when we were both at our worst. Well, I don’t know if that was actually your worst but I know that I neared the end of what I could handle. I’m sure you would be amused to know that some of the words I spoke came true. It’s a cruel game of a goddess that I asked for a mate who would love and accept me no matter what and I met you. You, with your manipulations and your need to maintain control. You, with your selfishness. It’s only been you. You, who still has my foolish heart after all this time apart. You, who captured my body so well that I couldn’t stand being with someone else so much I cried. No one else has ever managed to pull me in and captivate me the way you did. That’s the cruelty of fate. I don’t think anyone understands that. I want to believe that I left some impact on your heart and soul, but I doubt it. I’ve always been both unforgettable and negligible to others. I’m a strange combination of contradicting forces. It’s likely that it’s no different now. I want to believe that one day you’ll reach out and we’ll connect like never before. I want to believe that our story has a happy ending. I’ve always been a hopelessly romantic soul, yet all of my romantic stories end in tragedy.
Will this one? Has our ship already sailed and sunk for good? Some part of me holds out hope that this is the one romance that will rekindle and endure beyond any pain. My heart just enjoys playing me for a fool.