5.7
February 7, 2016

This is How I Lost You.

Flickr/Jenna Carver: https://www.flickr.com/photos/babyowls/2509618091/in/photostream/

I lost you to life.

l lost you to life the way the oceans break their rhythm at the shore. Sudden but not fatal.

I had lost you to an abyss of worldly eccentricities and a black hole filled with the moroseness of the occurrences I labeled my life.

And the bones beneath my flesh began to shatter at the sheer thought of knowing you no longer belonged to me. Then I realized, people never belong to other people. They but only offer up their time—which is, indeed, the most valuable and colossal way in which to adorn another being. And whatever amount of time I was graced with your presence, no matter how brief, will always be the greatest stretch of time I’ve known.

I loved you from the other side of the room. Looking for no love in return.

I loved you mercilessly, with courage and soul-burning compassion to exude happiness into you, always. Every leaf turning today will know, with black frost of mourning, that this world has lost a great love. Every crashing wave will recede in grief, knowing our love will no longer sink into the white sands.

Our death had come. Our love rose to the sky and it responded in a warm, unusual rain. For all aspects of this life began to feel unusual without you in it.

The songs of the birds will no longer sound the same, sunsets will never truly be beautiful anymore and my grey skies will be dark because your smile will no longer light up every trickle of my soul and every hair strand on my body.

Every tear that will ever fall, will fall in vain if it is not falling for the loss of you. Every train will be misguided and all my schedules will become confused as everything in my life begins to manifest in loss.

The dogs will howl at my full-moon sky and the sun will only rise because of the cycle of life. The man in the moon will look down on me in empathy, telling me he’s sorry from a million years away.

The streams beneath the bridges will run dry and all the paths not walked by your feet will erode and be made of nothingness.

And I will melt in the midst of my world, on an old wooden bench with an over-used water fountain and a song that resonates with my pain. I will write you a letter and seal it on that same bench. I will fall asleep beneath my rotting oak tree and the grapevines of my life will tire in drought.

The stars in my night sky will slowly begin to fade and the hail will no longer hurt my pale skin. The tender bruises will not leave for years, if they ever leave at all. And the pillars will shatter as the temple falls apart and the glass will burst as our love falls to pieces and the world will be in grief.

My world will be in grief. And we will mourn you. And we have lost you.

And we will call onto you once more and you’ll refuse to respond. And we will call until the universe around us comes to gather at the irritating noise of my undying love. And I will tell them. I will tell them our story. And the worlds will know our story. And the worlds will know your voice and they will know your being and they will mourn you too.

And then one day, the sun will be fed up and shine because that’s what it does. And the moon will look beautiful as it did before and the waves will incoherently crash as if nothing can stop them. And the world will come together again.

My world will come together again.

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Author: Laila Manie

Editor: Nicole Cameron

Image: Jenna Carver/Flickr & Maria Victoria Heredia/Unsplash

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