Cold

As we walked, I felt your pants brush up against my leg.  That's how I knew we were in step.  That detail stood out to me above and separate from everything else.  Why are all the most beautiful stories so sad?  Why are all the saddest stories about love?  Love that never was.  Love that was forgotten.  Love that was abandoned.  Love that broke lives and shattered hearts.

Was that destined to be our story?  I didn't ask again.  I knew the answer already, I closed my lips and turned them into a smile, and when you asked what I was thinking I just kissed you.  That was how I taught myself to forget.  Sometimes you looked at me as though you understood, and I'd glance away for a second before turning my face toward yours and smiling again.

When I went to write it, I realized that it wasn't a matter of what was or what could be.  This was our story.  It was already written, played out countless times before.  Hundreds had walked this path before, thousands had breathed these troubled breaths, millions had paused and blinked to stop the tears.  So there I sat, with that emptiness sinking through my stomach, watching our story write itself before me.

Why then, did I still sit and watch with such intense fixation, even thought I knew full well how it would go?  I sat there and I watched your eyes, your face, your hands, your back through every movement because I couldn't pull my glance away.  I knew then, that one day I would forget each moment, every elegant motion, all of the hugs and kisses and tender presses of your skin against mine.

Sometimes I forget about the moment and live in the future, when I've lost everything we had, and forgot everything that was special.  Then I lose myself and forget my heartbeat and feel myself falling through your arms, and the touch of your lips on my face brings me back and I smile again.  I smile for every beautiful moment that I'll try to cherish but will inevitably forget.

This is our story.  This is what we live that I will one day struggle to not forget.  It is the same bittersweet tale of love that I was trying to avoid, but here it is, so it is written, thus it will be.  I wish it wasn't, but we know that it is.  That bitter path we didn't want to walk, yet we're still stepping ahead, knowing full well precisely how it will end.