It’s the witching hour here, all is quiet…all is still except the myriad reflections cast by the slow moving lava lamp in my room. This room is empty, lacking memories. I thought I could sleep here and not be reminded of moments past.
Like that moment our lips first touched, me shaking as I gave myself to you. Or the moment you lay sleeping against me, while I watched your face and marveled at how beautifully peaceful it could be. There are many moments emblazoned in these blue eyes. They burn red with images of you.
I’m imagining you in the mountains. You’re in the back seat and stark, white peaks encompassing as you silently sit, staring out at the winding path and where it might take you. I also imagine your thoughts lingering on how this twisting, curving voyage is like your life. Never knowing where it might go, and only able to see the immediate future. In my vision, the sun breaks, sending it’s warming embrace down just for you.
I close my eyes, and I imagine you.