Of Memories and Confessions

I do miss kissing you, my favorite “never happened and never will”. No one will ever know you as much as I do. We cannot be strangers again. I can attempt to deny it but an onslaught of memories are triggered by the night sky. The whispering breeze and lapping waves over the warm sand preserve the daydream we lived. The hammock on this beach remains a testament to our confessions, a pendulum swinging in time with our tears. We laughed our cares away on that faithful day and entwined under the cover of darkness. The stars and the moon bore witness to our hopeless reminiscing, vanguards of our crucifixion. All that remain are cruces and odes, poetic utterances of our blight. Our imperfections laid bare for each to understand, to be buried or wielded as weapons. We are the other’s devastation, destruction let loose, havoc unleashed.