Welcome Visitor: Login to the siteJoin the site

The Season of You

Short story By: CursedHeart
Romance


Nothing has given me the strength to let you go.


Submitted:Dec 19, 2011    Reads: 10    Comments: 1    Likes: 1   


I felt your touch today.

It was nothing more than a brush against my cheek, and yet it moved me in ways that I have not been moved since we said our goodbye. It was just the ghost of you, a memory. It was that secret longing to be with you when I am alone, attacking my strong exterior fa├žade, breaking it away until I fall into that lake of helplessness.

I no longer know how to rid myself of you. It is within my greatest sorrow that I find the knowledge that our love was real, but our future together was never meant to take place. We were but two lost souls, alike in so many ways, taking comfort in a cold embrace. The flames that ignited our passion were not the roaring fires of true love, but the black sparks of a burning broken heart. All of this I know, but our crazed moments of lust and compassion still linger in my every thought.

The season of our romance is one that I will forever despise. Every season after will remind me of the mistakes made and the truths ignored. My entire life will secretly be lived in your name, without meaning, and without my consent. You haunt me in ways you may never know. Dreams are ridden with your face. Moments are lived with the fear that I may never see you in the days to come and never receive the chance to say what is on my heart. Moments are lived with the fear that I will see you, and say nothing.

In the dark recesses of night, I crave your voice. I crave the words that we screamed at one another, the words that broke me down, and the words that ended our relationship. I crave everything about you. I know better than to let you consume me, but I cannot let you go. I carry you with me, like a pregnant mother carries her child. Swollen with guilt and hate, I let your memory eat away at every emotion I experience, until I feel nothing.

One day, maybe I will move on. Maybe I will awake from this nightmare, and find the strength to let you go. Maybe I will dry my eyes, and walk out into the world born anew, no longer controlled by your memory. Maybe I will forget.

Maybe.





1

| Email this story Email this Short story | Add to reading list



Reviews

About | News | Contact | Your Account | TheNextBigWriter | Self Publishing | Advertise

© 2013 TheNextBigWriter, LLC. All Rights Reserved. Terms under which this service is provided to you. Privacy Policy.