Ghosts I Have Been
© 2004 Black Tangled Heart
Disclaimer: Sofia Coppola is a deity. Title taken from a book by Richard Peck.
Dedication: A belated birthday gift for Janice, in the hopes that she had a wonderful day (and that she will finally read the book and see the film!). Much love is sent to you, dearest.
~*~
She was everything and nothing.
She was that one cherry blossom that fell from the tree early. The one that wilted and browned; the one that was crushed beneath a heel on the sidewalk. She was a stray green leaf carried away by a sudden wind. She was the dizzy feeling in your stomach when you spun around like a child. She was early rose-washed morning. She was pearl-gray dreamless sleep.
She was everywhere. In the stirring window curtains, the fingerprint-smeared glass. The slant of moonlight through the branches of the elm, the flickering of streetlights and stream of dying stars. Reflected in silver breakfast spoons. Rising with the sound of Joni Mitchell from the record player. Smiling in the mirror. So sweet and cynical. Scrambling up the tree. Agile and docile like a cat. Baby-faced and tarnished.
It might have been romantic to think of her ghost. To feel a shiver on the back of your neck and wonder if it was her, breathing across your skin. To see a flash of chestnut hair in a crowd; a ripple of a taupe dress. To crane your neck to see if she had reached her tree's topmost branch. But all you felt was an involuntary shudder before you took the chemistry test you hadn't prepared for. You saw your classmate with dark tresses, a single mother with a beige skirt, gold-scarlet shimmers of light across leaves and branches and trunk.
No Cecelia.
When you didn't look was when you saw her. If you skipped math class, she'd be beside you as you lay in the back field. She'd wear that trademark cheeky smile and promise you she'd tell the teacher. If you had to eat your cauliflower at supper, she'd sit across from you, pink tongue coyly licking an ice cream cone.
Sometimes, you'd capture her hazy image in a photograph. Maybe it was your mind playing tricks on you, because you so desperately wanted to see her. She'd float into the air with the ashes when you burned candles, but she melted quicker than the wax.
She never stayed long. Vanished quickly. From surface and air. But she lingered in your mind. Crisply cut and crystalline.
She was everything and nothing.
Forever here and gone.
~*~
© 2004 Black Tangled Heart
Disclaimer: Sofia Coppola is a deity. Title taken from a book by Richard Peck.
Dedication: A belated birthday gift for Janice, in the hopes that she had a wonderful day (and that she will finally read the book and see the film!). Much love is sent to you, dearest.
~*~
She was everything and nothing.
She was that one cherry blossom that fell from the tree early. The one that wilted and browned; the one that was crushed beneath a heel on the sidewalk. She was a stray green leaf carried away by a sudden wind. She was the dizzy feeling in your stomach when you spun around like a child. She was early rose-washed morning. She was pearl-gray dreamless sleep.
She was everywhere. In the stirring window curtains, the fingerprint-smeared glass. The slant of moonlight through the branches of the elm, the flickering of streetlights and stream of dying stars. Reflected in silver breakfast spoons. Rising with the sound of Joni Mitchell from the record player. Smiling in the mirror. So sweet and cynical. Scrambling up the tree. Agile and docile like a cat. Baby-faced and tarnished.
It might have been romantic to think of her ghost. To feel a shiver on the back of your neck and wonder if it was her, breathing across your skin. To see a flash of chestnut hair in a crowd; a ripple of a taupe dress. To crane your neck to see if she had reached her tree's topmost branch. But all you felt was an involuntary shudder before you took the chemistry test you hadn't prepared for. You saw your classmate with dark tresses, a single mother with a beige skirt, gold-scarlet shimmers of light across leaves and branches and trunk.
No Cecelia.
When you didn't look was when you saw her. If you skipped math class, she'd be beside you as you lay in the back field. She'd wear that trademark cheeky smile and promise you she'd tell the teacher. If you had to eat your cauliflower at supper, she'd sit across from you, pink tongue coyly licking an ice cream cone.
Sometimes, you'd capture her hazy image in a photograph. Maybe it was your mind playing tricks on you, because you so desperately wanted to see her. She'd float into the air with the ashes when you burned candles, but she melted quicker than the wax.
She never stayed long. Vanished quickly. From surface and air. But she lingered in your mind. Crisply cut and crystalline.
She was everything and nothing.
Forever here and gone.
~*~