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Memory

“You ready?” My whisper turns into cold, smoky winter air.
“Yeah,” His voice is crackly like an old 40’s reel film.
His fingerless glove creates fingers of white, motionless blood.
He breathes on the fingers to give them comfort and hope.
It fails numerously.
I adjust my Polaroid and focus on the atmosphere around me. I can’t help but notice the shimmering dots scattering amongst the distance. They fall out of the black sky with grace and carelessness as I flash the camera.
He laughs softly as each picture slides out of the Polaroid. “That will work,” he holds his purple, puffy-feeling thumbs up as best as he can.
I smile and pull my streaky indigo hair away from my pink-tinted face. I aim for the tall evergreen tree and the flash fires in an instant.
“Now that’s a nice one,” he says as he examines the natural beauty that the picture withholds.
My feet leave permanent marks in the white snowdrops as he and I continue to walk. His gawky shadow is noticeable in the moonlight’s path. I don’t want this to ever end.
“How about going back now?” I ask him with big, beady green eyes.
“Just another second, I wanna enjoy this.” He smiles as we look off into the rest of the world’s current creation.
He suddenly kisses me against the leafless, icy oak tree. His lips feel warmer than the crackle of a flaming fire.
“Let’s go,” he sighs with acceptance and bravery.
As we head back to our picture destination, he begins to set himself for the right pose.
I ask once again. “Are you ready?”
“Yes,” he says for the final time.
The Polaroid flashes and captures a picture of such a majesty that is him.
“Thank you,” I say as my lips quivers like shrill, shaky bones.
He kisses the top of my forehead to leave his last legacy.
“Just remember that I will remember you…”
The sad thing is, tomorrow my brain won’t remember him.




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