Over The Edge; created for contest in Figment
Over the picture of us here, dust and the incessant batter of light has faded it to gray, a reminder that those times past are really, well, times past. Yet, in the depths of my mind, I still remember that day, clear as the gem ring I still wear after all these years.
The first time I--no, we, were here in Machu Picchu, it was our honeymoon, the taste of love fresh on our fingertips. Now, it appears to most that I am all alone...but despite what they say, I am not alone; Steven is still with me. Some say that I've faced aging roughly: my skin is leathery, yellowed like delicate leaves of parchment, and my hair is white and stringy. But as I stand in the stinging mist of the archaic Inca city, I feel as young as I was in that picture.
In the tender hours of morning, I am mostly alone besides some wandering tourists. The straggled mountains jut around me, pinning me in its embrace, yet elevating me far above the dramatic fall below, covered by the unyielding fog. I can sense the wisdom here among the ruins.
Here, our love was kindled, where I gripped my Steven close with the means to hold on forever.
Here, I will let him go.
I stand on the edge, dangling the photo over the cavernous valley. My fingers, shuddering, open, and it flutters, a gray memory, to nothingness.
“Goodbye, Steven,” I murmur.
