The Hummingbird's song

Cracked mirror

The sound of laughter. The closing of shutter. Groggy laughter. Her licking the sugar off of her fingers after sneaking into the pantry. I plait her hair and she plaits mine, we eat toast and jam and steal candy from the candy store. Or was it the clothes store? It shouldn't be this easy to forget. The squeak and shudder of the garden swing as it soars so high I brush the sky. The axe steadily chopping wood. The leaves crunching under our boots. I laugh at something she says, and we lay there breathless and flushed. She helps me up and suddenly we're kissing, a kiss that is full of good and silent promises. A kiss that sums up the wistful glances and silent looks. I hug her hard and cry. I tell her that I wish. I wish I could see her and remember what she looks like. I wish the heroine of all my dreams wasn't a faceless entity hiding from my eyes. But she's one of the many memories glazing over. I remember. I remember us walking down to the beach and hiding in the treehouse, sneaking kisses in the hallways after school. And yet, I don't remember her name or her eyes. I don't remember the way her hair swung over her shoulders or the way that she dressed. And as I tell her this, she turns back into sand and slips through my fingers, and sinks back into the photograph. My brain is clouded over. I'm in my basement, surrounded by memories of her everywhere. She taunts me in a cruel dance, escaping my grasp whenever I try to catch up.

There's a creak and hurried stomping up the stairs, and I feel arms pulling me left and right, frantically pulling at my clothes. I sit there, eyes fixed on the floor as I cry and chant incoherent sentences a hundred times over. The rhythmical beeping of the machine slows and my breathing becomes erratic. I cup my ears with my hands as I rock to and fro, tears spilling down my face as the world goes silent. I feel as through I'm drowning, stones pulling me down to a place of no return. There's a light far away, but I don't have the strength to reach out. The stars twinkle and I welcome the darkness as it overcomes me, a watery soft smile on my face. I'll go find her. I'll go find Amy.