Slowly Leaving Me

I watched in utter defeat as the train pulled out of the station, taking him with it. My parents said it was for the best, and that I could do better, but I didn't want better. All I want is him. They never did approve of him, even tried to lock me in my room more than once. They forgot I had a window, several actually. Even though I was on the 3rd and highest floor, I could still escape by inching my way along the ancient oak branch that came just short of my window. They didn't even consider that I may do this because the oak itself, no matter how green the leaves, was dying.

It creaked loudly in the wind, reminding me of the croaking frogs that sang from the lake on the side opposite to my room. Tonight was one of many When I go to see him. We meet at the weeping birch tree 10 feet from the driveway. The rough bark brushed against my cheek, branches tangling in my curly hair, tugging at it and pulling my blue ribbons out. They float along, weaving through the branches delicately, finding harmony with the beating of the wind against the bar wire fence that hardly stands.

I go barefoot, loving the feeling of the wild rye and wet grass swimming along my ankles. I have to stop for a minute, to take in all the natural treasures. Everything is different at night, it holds a mystic beauty unlike the day I think of as warm and welcoming. The world in my eyes resembles a fire, both comforting and harmful, helpful and destructive. Most people just look at the flames that dance on the outside, the sparks that sizzle and pop when cooled, but few look deeper. Few see the embers burning like snow set on fire from beneath, few see the blue flames that act as the ocean waves coming to greet the blazing sun early in summer days. Hardly any notice the wind inside the flame, pushing the waves higher and higher until finally they are scorched, and soon after cower to the face of the sun, receding back into their ocean oasis.

When I got to the tree, I was there alone. It is here I finally fall, my hands go to my mouth in attempt to hold in sobs heavy with grief. I weep under our tree, deep purple surfaces on the sky. It casts a hazy curtain over the ground, but the weeping tree hangs low with woven leaves stringed around me, concealing me from the world. The world I need but do not want, because right now it is at one of its cruelest moments, and seeks joy and pride in crushing me, leaving me on my knees.

As if to make sure I know its intent, rain pounds down like spears from unseen warriors perched atop the clouds. Many find their way through the leaves, which means I am unsheltered, but these droplets of H20 have no effect on me. They are lost among my own storm. It rages strong, blowing away my reason, which may have already been gone. I have no reason left, what is there left for me, who is left for me to reason with? No one but myself. How can I be so alone, yet have so many people around me? He was the one person I needed, he was my greatest company, and now he lives on as my greatest misery.

I don't want to move, can't move, but I need to. I only move physically, never mentally, I am broken. I am in pieces and refuse to move on, I am but a shell of myself, always incomplete. I stand, but it's all I do. I remain lost, dazed and searching the skies for answers. Where have the warriors gone, where is the world to come and taunt me. They only come when I wish them to be gone, when I am broken they come to shatter me, they have no use for me otherwise.

The grass twists together weaving their baskets to hold the rain, seemingly the hands for the winds that pass. It takes control, whisking the grass, causing it to dance together, moving identical, each strand blows to the unseen notes of its captor. The wind leaves as suddenly as it arrived, leaving the grass to swoosh wildly to its own songs.

How could he be so selfish!? I look up and the stars blur together, causing a sheet of light to cascade around me. How can I be surrounded by so much light, when I've been kept in the dark for so long? Where is he going, why did he leave me like this, with no indication of where he was going? I sleep, but have yet to dream of him, even though he has filled many of my past dreams. I blink, yet I have not felt the waters of sorrow fall down my face since that night.

I look at the moon, but I can't see his face pasted among it in the stars like I used to every night. I try to picture him, the way he looked when he was smiling, laughing, leaving... Leaving me alone, but I can't. Or maybe I just don't want to anymore, maybe I need to let him go, because all I can do is remember shadows of the past. His face no longer haunts my mind like the permanent shadow it once seemed to be. His touch no longer holds me in its warmth. His lips no longer linger upon me like a mist that had formed and kept the grass full of dew in mornings light. Now the dew drops are sinking into the ground, still remaining, just unseen and beginning to trickle slowly deeper and deeper, until they cease to exist completely, just like my memories of him are slowly fading. Images erasing, until soon there will only be the thought of him, the green grass that will remind me, until the grass folds over and begins to brown, then dies. As will he, in my memories.