There were nights when the wolves would howl to a full moon that cast a skeletal spell upon the intruding, silhouetted canopies. Somewhere in the morning a sparrow would wake and croon sweet melodies—perfect harmonies with the echoes of midnight’s faring language. I remember you like Sunday towns—streets full of soft hymns and the red-gold snow of autumn.
I am sitting here now with my feet dangling over the cliff. The ocean below laps at the rocks, tempting me to meet the surface. I stay put. Too easy, I think.
In the distance I can hear the seagulls screaming above the water. I imagine I can hear the houses in the town miles behind me creaking—shifting as they sometimes do.
My hands are scabbed over with mud. I went digging today, beside the roots of the oak tree bearing our initials. How cliché. Still, I could not find those pieces of us we buried there.
Oxygen is choked up in the clouds, or so it seems. My lungs feel swollen, but I realize I’ve been holding my breath. I feel the salinity of the air gently stinging my cheeks, where the ghosts of your lips blossom.
I am wearing the same dress you last kissed me in. I remember my long hair blowing everywhere in the wind, causing the sight of you to flicker between the strands. The grass tickled our ankles as we swayed together. It was brown and dead, and still very much alive—as long as your hand remained in mine.
The path back to the road slopes downward for about a mile. I look up and catch a glimpse of early stars. The hazy sky takes me like a cave. I cannot help but wonder where you will be tonight, beneath the lonely moon. I wonder about you; this moment and how I know that in the end I will be left with myself, open to a boundless chapter of loathing. These are the nights I feel most alone, forced into this culture of solitude.
It begins to rain. Little droplets fall from the sky and caress my shoulders, consoling me with their tiny hands. They touch the entire town all at once, and a moment later, not at all. Turning my back to the path again, I press my eyes shut.
I want to hold on to you, maybe because we can no longer hold on to each other. I can see you behind my eyelids, only for a second until you disappear again.
Do you remember me as I remember you? I wonder, feeling the air turn to wind against the nature of gravity. The ocean pulls me under, welcoming me to her homely depths.