There my heart skipped a million beats, when you held my hand to your face.
But it wasn't your hand that made me feel that way, as I see it now. Uncountable times, I have reeled back to the same place, the same night, and the same seats in that low lit vehicle to revisit the same sensation and every single time I was taken there and I had butterflies in my stomach. I did not give it much thought, much like faith, I did not believe it was just any chemical chimera being conjured up by my mind. I believed that it was a part of me, this fond memory. Not until now.
We grew out of love, love. Perhaps we never loved, not each other at least. It was momentary, and we were foolish to think that it would last. The callowness of youth and the high ideals, we didn’t have an iota of prudence. When we walked, people talked. It will pass we said, so did they. We believed in what we said ourselves, but we didn’t give two hoots to what they said. Quite possibly, it was not just me who had thought that. You were never mine to begin with, but I thought that could be changed, such faith; foolish me. People were wrong and I am glad they were, but we were wrong too. It all makes sense now.
My heart knows of no love from yesterday that came and stayed. Nor does it know of any that in future in it might dwell. What it does know is the emotion that is now, soon to be forgotten and lost like the past it once forlorn.
You ask why now, why write it down now, after all this passing. No, love, it is not venting. For me, it is healing, a way to let go. You never asked, and I never wrote while I was with you. But these memories are so light that they actually leave me when I carefully decant them over this surface, leaving behind as precipitate an angst that sometimes tugs at me when I think it wasn’t meant to be this way. I might burn this page as well, but I am not sure what becomes of the ashes. I’d let them be here until I am done, and let someone claim them when I am gone. This is not to let you know that I got over you, that my heart does not flutter at that thought anymore; that my mind does not remember it as a sweet moment now, nor does it remember it as a bitter memory; it is to let you know that my mind is letting go, binding the memory here, out of my mind, here, open to wear. It is to tell you that you were right to be fearful of what fate holds for us, and I was stupid to pacify you with false assurances. See, I messed up.
I see that it was my mind that stirred those emotions every time, and pulled the strings discordantly. It's easy for the heart to forget, but not for mind to accept.
You took down my defenses, now as I rebuild them, I’m just letting you know, go. I broke the spell and cast off the visions; and as this chapter draws to an end, so do your memories. I never knew you.
(Source: Deviant Art)
P.S. If you feel like commenting, there is a login bar in the top right sidebar. Make yourselves comfortable :-)