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It just happened.
It came, it reared its head, then disappeared.
The summer of my life. Days, weeks, fell in my lap, played with my heart then took off one sunny day.
Left, disappeared out of my world.
To fade off in memory, in the sharpness of time, to be a distant dream, a voice, a touch, a whisper.
Disappear it did.
It could not last. It had to vanish into the edge of the horizon, to tumble down the precipice.
Did I dream it? Did I ask for the universe to bring this into being, to pull me eventually into pieces?
When the moments disappeared, vaporized.
Dreams come and go, sometimes remembered, sometimes a fleeting thought. Remembering the dream only to have it ripped from the heart, the inner being, the soul is in itself a dream.
To say disappear is wrong. To say it will never be remembered is wrong.
It's in the blood flowing, the skin that touched, the heart that beat its fastest.
No, it can't disappear.
The body disappeared, the essence, the live breathing tangible thing disappeared.
But the memories, voices, the heat in the warmth of the summer will never disappear.
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