another me
April 26, 2016 § 6 Comments
I remember the sky seemed to shed her last rays of light just as you lumbered into focus; your silhouette on fire, you plucked me from the shadows of the evening’s heat with curious amusement.
It was an hour of adolescence when time seemed a fabrication of authority and rules were something you leaned against for weight.
We were ghosts of something wanton chasing after stolen moments of spent youth. There was no afterthought in our distraction, only the urgency of fleeting freedom.
You chose me and I marveled at my good fortune. Moving recklessly against whim I let your contentment fill the vacancy of my certainty as I quickly disappeared into an extension of your pleasure.
There was no one to hear the quiet panic in my acquiescence, the silent loss of time squandered in determined hopefulness. I was less myself after you left, hollowed out and angry; unraveled and awake.
And so we became strangers long after we first met, speaking in a muddled language of shared memories and complicit ignorance.
A snapshot of self forgotten except in the light of summer’s first arrogance when I miss the girl who held her breath for magic. The girl I knew before you.
scribblechic 
Many memorable lines, my favourite: We were ghosts of something wanton…
Thanks, Andy. I ended up cutting fragments of prose I loved, so I’m glad you found something special in those lines that survived the less emotional work of editing.
That was a very deep wander Marie…touching connections…but what have they become?
Building, tearing down, building…but all, good and bad, always creating that heart within.
You radiate beautifully for a journey well told 🙂
Journey is the perfect word for the practice of writing. Sometimes the telling is more complicated than the experience itself.
Hey there. I haven’t been a regular commenter lately but remain a loyal reader. Life’s thrown quite a few interesting challenges at me lately–good ones, mind you; no worries–and time for blogging has been limited to reading using the ‘phone when the chance occurs.
…and I am the most AWFUL phone-typer. Period.
Today I have to make the exception. I positively LOVE this post 🙂
Thank you, Maurice, for years of companionable readership.No guilt, ever, about commenting. Let’s make that a rule.
I am horrible at typing on my phone, my thoughts move more quickly than my fingers and I find it maddeningly inefficient. All to say, I understand the generosity of patience it took to comment on this particular post. Thank you!