Someone
once told me that, someday, I’d learn what it is to love.
I think I
know now…
He and I
were walking along the street together, just laughing and smiling. Talking. I
slipped my hand into his, and he left it there. He wanted it there. I don’t know
how long we walked, and I don’t need to. It was bliss.
After a
while, we slowed and stopped. There was a light rain in the darkness, and it
glittered in the soft glow of the lone street lamp we stood under.
I turned
and looked at him. Into his perfect, crystal blue eyes. He was beautiful. He
said something, it doesn’t matter what, and I smiled.
That night
was perfect.
A sudden
breeze picked up and tugged my scarf away. I tried to catch it, but it blew
into the street. He laughed and chased after it for me. He caught up with it in
the center of the road, turned, and started to walk back.
That’s when
it hit…
A dark blue
Durango sped down the road. He had no warning. Neither of us did. The driver
tried to stop, but the road was too slippery from the rain, and he didn’t have
time.
I screamed,
but no sound came out. I was shocked. He had been thrown so far…
My scarf
fluttered across his broken body, stark white against the growing pool of
scarlet…
After a few
moments of stunned silence, I ran into the street after him. His once perfect
face was now marred with cuts and scrapes; his soft golden curls now matted
with his own blood. He looked so helpless…
I was dimly
aware that the driver had gotten out of the car and called the ambulance.
Someone was gently pulling on my arm, guiding me away. Telling me that
everything would be alright. The world was filled with flashing light
reflecting off the all but forgotten rain.
The EMT’s
were rushing around, helping him. Soon, the Life Flight arrived. They put a
blanket across my shaking shoulders, loaded him into the helicopter, and were
gone.
The night
was quiet again, the street only lit by the lone lamp. The sky still quietly
cried and blood floated on the puddles like crimson flowers, the stained white
scarf their only silent company. While I stood there, in my shattered world of
sorrow.
Yes, I know
what it feels like, to love. It feels like a warm night, alone in bliss with
the one person you don’t want to leave
behind ever, the wishing, no, yearning, that something could be done to save
him. That somehow you could have been the one lying broken on the pavement.
Love, is
being the one left behind to cry over the grave with a vase of red flowers
wrapped with a shining white scarf…
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