6/2/2001 2:28am
Her funeral was given three years ago, in the spring. I don't know why I dream about her death every other week. It's stressful, to wake up those nights, thinking only of her dying. I want to think about, her smiling and laughing and me watching her paint as I would play the piano. They said, it was because of stroke. I didn't ask much, questions though because... I don’t know. I guess I was afraid to begin to understand. I did not want to because I thought there was no reason for her to be taken away. No excuse. I looked over at my clock; it read 2:30am. My eyes drifted back to the ceiling as I recited the words she last spoke to me. "Drink in the music and taste the bold colors” What had she meant by that? Or maybe I was just imagining it. Hue, her brother told me that it was impossible for her to have uttered a single word, in that state. That I had just been overcome by stress so quickly, my brain had imagined it. But, I know she said it, and i wanted to know the meaning, I never got the chance though. Even since her death I don’t play the piano anymore or any instrument really. When ever I try I just get real depressed. Music has a way of making you feel all types of ways, even if it wasn’t meant to make you sad, but instead happy. On those cases your going to still feel frustrated, pissed, or whatever. Every time I try to play music now, I get overwhelmed. She’s in every thought that passes through my thick skull. Amelia was so beautiful. Better than you could imagine. She had long brown hair that went down to her waste and sharp, crystal, blue eyes; with specks of green in it. Her skin was a chocolate brown, and oh so smooth. Every time she pulled my hand into hers, electric currents shot through her finger tips into my system. When she looked at me, it was as if she was really looking at me you know...
Sometimes she would run her hand through my ashy hair, and slap my cheek playfully when I messed up on the notes with the piano. I swear when she looked into my eyes, I thought she loved me like I loved her. She loved me alright, but she was not in love with me. Her voice was intoxicating, and sweet. Every time she spoke my name, she brought it to life with her tangy voice and always talked calm. I miss her; I really do. I would have been able to accept the fact she only loved me in a friendly way, but neither of us got the chance to love each other in either way we wanted. When people say love lasts a life time, they are lying. Love last as long as you can grab it, control it, or nurture it. When it slips through your fingers and wiggles away. Don’t expect for it to come back unless you chase after it, and even then you might not be able to run fast enough, or if your really unlucky you lose sight all together...
