Summer Memoire
I reminisce on our past escapades when she and I were more than flashbacks. Memories of summer swirl in my thoughts. Remembering the time we drifted upon the river’s surface, before driving home under the fluorescent coating of the setting sun.
Water still about our skin, but we were carefree. Life was an adventure we explored, creating moments that would span a lifetime, even if we never would.
Her body glistening under the sky’s hue. Nothing but a towel around her shoulder, as her bikini exposed the curves that caught my eye. My chest bare to the breeze whistling by the windows as we drove along country roads. Hair dancing in the wind beyond a view of never-ending fields. The marvel of the west coast sunset was just as breathtaking a view as her appearance; painting the sky candy pink.
The memory plays like a roll of film, and I see the sunbeams and shadows flashing inside the car like a motion picture. The atmosphere was euphoric. Our eyes locked within the other. She inched her head onto my chest. My arm slid over her body. The soothing sounds of my light breathing and gentle heartbeat lulled her to sleep.
In those moments, our hearts found a home to cultivate. A relationship of serenity and depth, connecting on a level that solidified our bond. Perfection is a standard rarely attained, but that day was exactly it. Happiness in its purest form. The sound of the wind singing in our ear was the only voice needed to speak as we made our way into the sunset.
Sometimes the best things only last a moment in time, and I guess we were one of those things. But that summer memory is a permanent resident within my mind; a testament to the priceless memories we once birthed together.
Club Princess
I see her every weekend and it breaks my heart. Her smile is a perfect facade. She enters the club with her entourage, surrounded by fake friends who indulge in her escapades. The club has become a fantasy world in which she gets lost. It is a place of comfort that she enters when her sanity falters. But her situation is not one so easily escapable. Her heart is breaking and the more she ignores it the worse it becomes. She seeks out temporary highs to hide from the heartbreak that awaits her outside. Bottles popping, booty dropping, she’s caught up in the nightlife. She takes periodic trips to the bathroom, and every time she exits, her make-up is a bit smudged. But she ignores it and rejoins the crowd maintaining the lie she keeps telling herself. Sometimes I fight the urge to pull her aside. But by the time I find her, someone else is feeding off her seductive demeanor. She basks in the thought of someone seeing her worth, giving her the attention she so desperately thirsts. But love can’t be found in these four walls. What exists here is purely physical and I know she longs for something on a much deeper level. I can see the gold inside of her; a woman deserving of so much more. Yet here she is, an oppressed soul allowing a jester disguised as a king to make her feel miserable. At this point, my weekends revolve around her; hoping she doesn't show. But every time she does, she's less of herself. Caught in a self-destructive routine that she just can't seem to break out of. I pray there will be a night when she doesn’t walk through that door. Then maybe I could party and not lose my gaze to the other side of the dance floor.
Love’s Sacrifice
And sometimes, separation is a form of love; the highest level of dedication to one’s heart. She was art, a magical rendition that echoes selflessness in its symphony. The skies never looked more beautiful knowing she was in its presence. A shooting star flying upon manmade wings, destined for a destination that defines dedication. Her journey inspired a fate nonexistent without her. The irony, distancing our bond so we can stay together. I stand staring, emotions surging to the corners of my eyes, tears reaching to the surface for a breath of air. Lost in myself, loneliness saw its opportunity to give birth to anxiety. But his hand tightens its grip, almost sensing the walls of my heart crumbling, and just as I was lost, I was found. He was the string forever entwining our paths, the moon hovering over the nights of solitude plaguing the family we called home. And at that moment, I understood, that as his mother flies the skies to educate her mind, she entrusted her greatest gift in my hands. Time is the antagonist of our script, but love is the hero, not even death can overcome.
My Role: Writer
Co-writer: Wimana