after him

.

 You sound like trumpets and violins.

It glows and changes; when you close your eyes and listen to them, you hear what you feel. Now, when I listen to anything with trumpets in them, I feel empty.

You came into my life, just as the sun does at the break of dawn. The gray parts of my soul were filled in with you. It was always you I was thinking about. I saw you in everything.

You were a happy memory. I think I'll always remember you, sitting beside me with your fingers tangled in mine, your cheek resting on my shoulder. I suppose it feels like floating. Or listening to old seventies music, with your hand in mine, trying to keep our feet steady. We topple over, with our hands still clasped together, breathing in exhaustion. Sometimes we'll look at the time, and sometimes we don't. We let our feelings flow over each other, and we forget time. It is as if it never was, just like everything around us.

Isn't it strange? Someone can be someone's lover, sharing thoughts about anything and everything. And one day, or perhaps any day, it can all cease to be. You are still yourself, and so am I. But we- we're just people. People come together and drift away, and go from strangers to friends, from friends to lovers, and then, I felt as if we were growing apart. Life pulled you away from me. Now, we are strangers, who used to be so much more.

I hated life then. You were the only one who pulled me out of a misery that lasted longer than it should've.

We say our farewells.

If I could, I'd dance with you again, in circles in a cramped room, avoiding the stacks of books on the tabletops, feeling so much joy that to me, it was almost surreal. Even when the dance ends, you will still be there, like a dream put into my life.

I suppose we needed to pull each other out of the gray ocean. I suppose the two of us were supposed to happen, even if we ended with waterfalls of tears and two heavy hearts.

I miss you. I recall how you looked at me, and I stared back into your eyes, and we both knew.

It was a beautiful haze, made with so much love. I find myself smiling, when I think of you and me, and this haze of a relationship we had. I loved you, after all.

Isn't that what we do with memories of emotions? We live in them the remains of a joy that once was, and when it is time to leave them, we are trapped in thoughts of them. We slowly rebuild, we rebuild that love that once flitted through two hearts, in that room, in that house. We smile when we think of that happy memory, something we had but lost. Perhaps it is a happy loss, when we left each other, and the room we used to dance in.

I hear the same trumpets and violins, and the fuzzy sound of the record as it plays, but I dance with someone else. You were a happy memory.

We grow.