Too Much to Remember

Something random I wrote, maybe the beginning to a story. Maybe the end. I don't know what it is. Written in October, inspired by crumbled mountains and the Gervais family driveway.

Xoxo, kg.

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I watched her books disappear over weeks… the words bound shrinking just like those between us. I had done nothing wrong, she said. But I knew better. I knew that if I had done nothing wrong, she wouldn’t leave me, wouldn’t have already left me. Here we go.

Before I fall asleep, I can still feel her breathing down my neck, her softness bringing me to life when I least wanted it. I never took advantage of these kinds of things.

Is this not the greatest tragedy?

I didn’t mean to fall apart, of course. But it’s wedged between us, something like air but more beautiful, something like water but heavier. All I can feel is my heart breaking again and again and again and again and again here we go, I say instead: I still have our box. I can’t help it. I can’t throw her away. I can’t give her to goodwill or forget worn jeans or mermaid hair. I didn’t know how to keep her and so she was gone. If I believed in God, I would have prayed to Him. Who the hell knows, maybe I did. I can’t remember anything except trying not to cry, trying to hold myself away from her, when all I wanted was to feel the soft animal of her body falling against mine, make me somebody. She wasn't the only one, but she was the only one that matters. You would learn to hate me if you knew.