I met you at the museum. Funny really, because to me you belong here. Up there with the masterpieces. Among the statues which look beautiful in the daylight and terrifying in its absence, among the sensational oils and ethereal figurines, and among the exquisite inscriptions preaching endless beliefs of the forgotten past. You captured me with your mystery.
My first sunrise with you, I think, was the best I’ve ever seen. Our legs dangling over the ravine wall, with your fists held tight in anticipation of the first rays of light. And when it came, my word, it was beautiful. The sunrise took your breath away and you took mine. I’ve realized that I’ve never quite met someone like you, with energy so mystifying and aura so intense that it’s hard to breathe sometimes.
It’s hard to find another who is adventure itself. The day we went on a walk in the woods was my favorite of all our adventures. The sound of gravel under our feet, the rhythms of our breaths and silence all around. I think my favorite memory was walking in silence with you. I still remember how you stopped abruptly to gaze at an ancient gash in the pine and how you traced your fingers across its wound, taking away the pain. How you did it, was and always will be a mystery to me. Sometimes when I looked at you, your face impassive, it was hard not to wonder why your eyes which could paint rainbows, stared vacantly at the sky. It’s unreal, your personality. You seemed like a dream, you still do. I remember wishing I could forget the mornings when I looked over at you to soak in your light, only to see your empty face stare back, your blue eyes- grey.
But thinking of then now, I only wish to remember, the smallest of details- of how your lips moved in prayer at times of struggle, of how your eyes lit up when it rained for weeks, and of how you cried all night when you couldn’t remember happiness. I only hope that you’ve left a piece of you for me as I have for you. You have stolen my thoughts and so here I am, in the same hallways where I met you, looking for something, anything that you might have left. I just want a part of you, just a small memento from when I knew the iridescent you.
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Hi, I'm Arzoo. Dreamy, grounded, aspiring. From one moment to another. When I write, I'm someone I want to be, and so I do. I like poetry, prose and everything with words and feeling.