Water pours down my naked shoulders. I try to wash the memory of her away.
Try in the same breath to hold on to it for dear life. It will bear me on. Clinging on only to these fading memories of her. Cling to her. Every fibre of my being wishes to hold her, yet I cannot.
We must forget.
Why then am I plagued by images? Why can I not forget?
A night of drunken games. Now a swirling memory of pleasure. A drunken dare to kiss her. My dreams
answered. In that moment the world changed. We knew we would go home together. Forbidden lust is appealing. Compelling.
It was more. Honest feelings. Caring. Love. A beautiful night. In another life the start of a beautiful affair. But it cannot be. We cannot be.
Leaving her bed hurt. Pain so intense. Real, physical pain. Still I slipped from beneath the covers, and silently out of her arms. Watched her whilst I dressed. Drank in the moment. Her chest gently rise, gently fall. Her skin shining in the moon light. I stood, awe struck, half dressed. All I saw was the beauty before me. Feeling the tear make a path down my cheek. Wishing for nothing more than to reach out and touch her once more.
Standing with my hand upon the cold hard door handle I could not tear my eyes from her. She sighs softly and shifts slightly. I turn, as if on cue, open the door and leave. My last sight of her a momentary flash out of the corner of my eye.
Now here, alone and cold once more, I mourn my loss. Her sweet smile, and timid glances. Her soft hands, warm heart. These things will never be the same. I will never be the same. I have tasted her skin. Flesh so saccharine. I tempted fate, knowing I would lose.
I have lost everything, I feel nothing but this agony. Sweet agony, telling me I live. I live but cannot be alive.
I have lost everything. Gambled my world on hope. It cannot be. Not through rejection, but acceptance. We cannot be. Cannot exist in our world.
It hurts. But I will go on. We will go on. Living our lie. Pretend. Friends are all we may be. All we are allowed.
We will continue. We must. But there will always be last night. When I see her I will know. We had one beautiful night. I held love in my arms. I let it get away. I had no choice.
Seeing her will be torture. The torment of knowing. Having.
But I have known. In this moment that is all I need. All I am allowed. It must bear me through.
Life, empty as it is, must continue. This could never be. Why then does it plague my mind? Her skin. Her hair. Her smell. All I can think. In this moment it is all I know.
These thoughts carry me to sleep. These are what will get me through. These. These broken, scattered memories are all I am allowed. These sweet memories which slowly fade.