Seasoned Soul

December 12, 2011
By mylifeasvia BRONZE, Huntsville, Alabama
mylifeasvia BRONZE, Huntsville, Alabama
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

Favorite Quote:
"I'd rather to have loved and lost, then to have never loved at all."

It was a cold December night when you kissed my soul. It was a hot summer night when you whispered into my heart. It was a windswept morning when you tore my tenderness. This is all so new to me, I didn't know how to handle it. I've never felt so much pain. You took my innocence and my soul with you. Sitting in a broken chair with notes and letters we wrote. Thinking of how we could never be together as one, ever again. Arising from that rusty old chair and descending downstairs to the living room where old cob webs lay on the couches and dust lays on every inch of wood that can be found. I ignore the where the memories lay, turn around, and walk outside to the porch and look at the bleak sky and remembering all those nights we lied on the pavement of the driveway and discussing about the most randomness of things. Those were the pleasurable times. The times when we had ear to ear smiles on our faces every time we layed eyes upon each other. Walking from the porch away from the house we both shared, I walk down the secluded road with letters in one hand and a French Press Bag in the other. A knit hat rest on my head and a scarf around my neck and the necklace you gave me for my 18th birthday is settled under the scarf. The wind is blowing and I see that rain is about to pour. I hurry to your doorstep. When I make it, I softly press the doorbell with my fragile finger...there you are, looking flawless as always, but I can see pain in your eyes, like you have been crying as well as I have been. You ask for me to come in to talk. As I step in, I see the old picture of us situated on your coffee table. You haven't put it down like I have at my home. You lead me to your settee, and as I sit, you lean over to whisper into my heart the words that I fell for the first day...
..."You look stunning.", you say. I get a chill down my spine because of how beautiful your voice sounds being spoken once again. I look up into your chestnut eyes with a spark of blue around the rim, and I easily had the urge to kiss you. But I resist the urge because I know that if I did, I would regret it for eternity. I slightly turn my head to look back at the picture of us on your table. The picture is from our first date at the carnival on The 4th of July. I remember like it was just yesterday. You picked me up at my parents house at 8pm, we rode every ride there was to ride and had the most greatest of laughs. In the picture, you were kissing my forehead and I was running my hand on your arm. I miss that. I so badly want to reach and turn the frame face down so I didn't have to remember the past. I turn back to you and then say "Thank you." in the quietest voice I can tell you almost didn't hear me. I take the letters from my hands and lay them on your lap, you take them in your hands lightly. Placing them on the table, I notice a tear fall from your suttle eye, landing on your distressed jeans. I try to hold back the tears that are settled behind my calm pain. You proceed to pick a note up , unfold it, and read it to yourself. Minutes go by with words unspoken. How long will this take? I see that you're processing each word and looking back to past with regret in your eyes. Folding the note back to the exact form, you put it down, looking at me you pull out an even older photograph, some sort of Polaroid of us....a picture of when we were babies...the first day we ever met. I then take it in my bare hands and let the tears go...
Sitting silently for a while trying to find the right words to say about how I feel towards him. As I look meaninglessly into his dazzling eyes, I couldn't bare to think of how glorious it would be to just go back into the memories of the pictures of what used to be. When our only troubles were when we needed help tying our laces or scraping our knees on the harsh concrete. Oh, such little troubles we had. I would trade the missed phone calls, your rude remarks in the past, terrible, frightening break ups and broken hearts for the childish and pointless troubles any day. Looking back down, I dry my tears with nearest handkerchief I could spot. I keep the handkerchief balled up in my hand and sat up straight after finally cleaning up myself from close to hysteria, and releasing the words I have wanted to set free for some time now. "Chad, you know how much and how deeply I love you. I don't think I could ever stop loving or even caring for you. But...the day of the wedding, when I never showed my face at the altar by your side, I nearly killed myself thinking of how evil I must have been leaving you at the church with no sign of where I was or even why. We have known each other since we were in diapers, I fell in love with you since the first time you were able to say my name. I felt like a princess when I was 8 years of age and you brought me this fragile and small little daisy, barely a stem left to hold it, to my door in the spring time. And you told me that you swore it was the 1st flower of the new spring. I honestly can't take back anything I said or did to your heart, and I wish I could." It took a while for you to courage up a look in your subtle face. Finally, your eyes meet mine and I already had a feeling of what you were going to say. The words reach your tongue, "It took me 3 years to let you in my house and apologize and set your story on my mind. Now it's time for me to put my story in your head. Heather, you knew how much I loved you my whole life, you had the audacity to actually leave me all alone. If you weren't ready, you could have just told me...this is very hard to do...but, I have built up the courage to say these words: I do forgive you. And I know that is what you have been looking for for years now." Tears rolled on my rose powdered cheeks and landed right in my open hands that were wiring patiently for him to take then in his. But he never did. As they say, he was killing me softly with his words.

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