there you are. i found you, between the tall grasses of august and the frosted mornings of january. you sat on the edge of my ford's bench seat and told me about the spring you imagined. told me about how the sound of my truck's gears shifting were the song that you heard right before you fell asleep.
{----}
there were holes in my pockets when i first met you. the stones i gathered from the creek bed fell out sometimes, when i was walking too fast or moving around. because of that, i tried to stay still most of the time. i tried to watch your face when the moonlight shifts over it so i could remember if you always look the same, so i could remember that you are steady and the same and all the things good. i liked to watch the shadows of the mountains on your arms when we walked. i liked to watch the change light makes on your body, the change light makes because you are the light.
{----}
when we went in at night, the peepers told you their secrets and you sewed up my pockets so there were no more holes. you said you had to go when the mountains called, and i let you, because you are like the wind. i wish i hadn't let you. i wish i hadn't have given you the fireflies we caught on the way home. if i hadn't, you'd have had a reason to come back.
{----}
(then i lost you, right between the parenthesis in the letter you left me, i the letter that told me i was covered bridges in may and long dirt highways in june and that you just couldn't hold onto the wilting flowers i gave you any longer. you told me you used my august eyes as an excuse to sleep with someone else, that you slept with someone else, and that anyone who had eyes like a late summer storm deserved what they got.)
{----}
that's okay, i guess. the flowers were nothing in comparison to the life you gave me. i wish you'd find me again, i wish i could lose you again, i wish i could see your hair in the sun, in the moon, in the rain. i wish i could see your eyes and the way your love refracted inside them. i wish i could tell you one more time, knowing how to skip rocks correctly is as important as knowing how to drive a car.
{----}
spring isn't the same without you.
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125,018 Literary Works • 672,857 Reviews
I don't actually have any nitpicks, which is surprising. (This is my first review in a little while so bear with me).
I feel like I relate with this very well, or at least I understand the concept, and it strikes a chord with me.
When you feel so deeply in love with someone, you're blinded by how much you care about them and don't see what's really happening underneath the surface. You don't see the pain that's about to destroy you until it hits you in the face and they're gone. They're absolutely 100% gone and all you feel is aching, raw sadness and pain and betrayal.
And then afterwards, you try to ignore the emptiness and sadness, and try to forget that you see them in your dreams. It's hard, but you can get through it.
Anyways, to repeat the same point; I feel this deep in my soul. Beautifully executed, my friend. Good job.
<3
This great for someone who understands what you are trying to get to them. I think that you have great skills, and that they are expressed in this. It shows what you can do in the work and how you can effect it with your writing. Thank you for letting me see this. I just got onto this and yours stands out like a flower in a desert. Thank you.
This great for someone who understands what you are trying to get to them. I think that you have great skills, and that they are expressed in this. It shows what you can do in the work and how you can effect it with your writing. Thank you for letting me see this. I just got onto this and yours stands out like a flower in a desert. Thank you.
this is really amazing