Original post: June 20, 2008; update: January 29, 2010. A work of fiction.
Coldplay are singing in the background: It’s such a perfect day. Warm sunlight caresses my face. I close my eyes, and the sounds, the smells, the sensations of today transport me back to yesterday.
I turned my head and there you were; within arm’s reach yet so much closer. Your back to me; you’d been reading while I slept. The Time Traveler’s Wife. There was a tear in your eye. It was that kind of book.
I remember … and I wouldn’t want to change a thing.
Your blue-green eyes. Your lips trembling to hold a laugh in check. Your fingers that locked into mine like the final piece of the puzzle. Your silken skin.
Don’t you want to curve away when it’s such a perfect day?
Your honey-colored silken skin, the fine hairs on your arms, the freckles on your shoulders, the curve of your neck that I called home.
Now the sky could be blue. I don’t mind; without you it’s a waste of time.
When I was with you, I was at peace.
Without you I’m just miles away.
When I’m with you, I’m at peace. And sometimes, on days when I sit alone here with God, I wonder where you are …