I hope she remembered it all.
I hope she remembered the happy, little, unimportant stuff. Like the heavy scent of sweet flowers pushed by the breeze as her veil danced with her raven black hair. The beaming sun when we ran hand in hand into the vast blueness of the ocean until our toes couldn’t touch the bottom.
I hope she remembered the light.
I hope she remembered my eyes. My eyes full of fear and love. I hope she remembered my arms around hers when the breeze was light and she was cool. I hope she remembered the way my lips felt pressed against hers. I hope she remembered my gentle lips on her neck when we made love.
I hope she didn’t see any darkness.
I hope she didn’t see my angered confessions of selfishness. I hope she didn’t think of my hateful words. I hope she didn’t see my angry eyes. I hope she didn’t see my cold thoughts through my body’s conversations.
I hope her last thoughts were of beauty and satisfaction. I hope her last words were “I’m okay.” In a way, I selfishly hope her breaths were physically easy but mentally painful. In a beautiful way, I hope they were serene and fast because I remembered her hate for anticipation.
I hope she remembered it all because I did.
I remembered the flowers at our wedding. I remember the first time our bodies united as one. I remember the first time she smiled, laughed. I remember the time I knew I was in love.
I remembered the pain. I remember the cries, the agony; the deep, engulfing heartache. I remember the fading of fluttering eyes and struggling lips. I remember picturing the insides of her shutting down. I remember her body slipping into a permanent sleep. She was my sweetheart, my love, my soul, my hope.
Author's Chapter Notes:
Just a small story given to me by the inspiration of Linkin Park's song Valentine's Day as I wait for my writer's block on Tears to pass.
