Tuesday, June 28, 2011
You told me not to give up hope. But it slipped though my fingers, sliding so fast like the glistening water droplets. I tried to hold it, all that I could. I have a few spider web strands left, they're all that is supporting me. I'm over a chasm of remembering, holding on tight. Everything holds memories. Classrooms, words, the buzz of my phone. Late nights, my sweatshirts, that santa hat. The pictures, my prom dress. I cannot escape him. The store holds items that trigger multitudes of memories. My dreams haunt me more than reality. In them I am his. We hold hands, always touching. We're together, standing close. He smiles at me. Laughs. Those spider web strands are slipping through my fingers, but I remain in the air. They become weak, only to be strengthened by thoughts, by a few words exchanged. By love.