Letters From The Moon

Lucky

I lay awake—eyes to the ceiling, hands on your chest; your heartbeat radiating through out my whole body—thinking how lucky I am to have you right beside me—breathing, eyelids fluttering, hopefully dreaming of me.

I kissed your forehead before I turned my back against you—welcoming your body heat. I drifted off to sleep, and I enter a dimension of colors.

In my dreams—I see us on our first date—I remember the dark cinema and how the big screen's colorful light bounced off the features of your face. The movie was nothing compared to your hands entertaining me. In that moment I couldn't believe how lucky I was.

My thoughts traveled to a different dimension—loud music, empty beer bottles, and you in your Captain America t-shirt. Your laughter stood above the banging music, and I realized that you were the one. Your hands found its way into mines under the table, and in that moment, you repelled all my fears. You took my hand and spun me around in the middle of the bar, the dark blue and bright red lights tinting our skins. Your brown eyes telling me that I've never been this lucky.

After the lights have died down, I see us walking down my street. The air was filled with silence and chills. No bright lights, no music, this scene looks a lot like from a movie. Your hands lightly in mine, mascara smudged, and a faint smile on my face. You turned to me and I was anticipating the kiss, closed my eyes, but you kissed my forehead. My eyes shot open. I saw your eyes filled with guilt in the form of tears. You said sorry, and I knew what came after. I turned away but before I could, you handed me your jacket to keep me warm—one last act of love.
"I love yo—"

I awake, tears in my eyes, realized you were gone for 2 years now.

Now

I lay awake—eyes to the ceiling, hands on my chest, and i wonder where we went wrong, and I thought to myself, how lucky I am to make it out alive.