No Matter What
by Elizabeth Casto
"Full is not as heavy as empty."-Fiona Apple
by Elizabeth Casto
"Full is not as heavy as empty."-Fiona Apple
Can't you see how much I love you? I always wanted to be near you but you always pushed me away for someone else. Why was I never good enough for you? It didn't have to be this way though.
She grabbed his hand and it was cold
to the touch. His eyes were closed and he was unresponsive. His
mouth remained sealed in a tight line.
Please, I wish you could just tell me that you loved me and that you always loved me. God, I wish you would just talk. I miss your voice more than anything. I love hearing you sing behind your guitar. Every time I hear your voice I am always at ease. I can't believe I'll never get to hear you sing again!
Please, I wish you could just tell me that you loved me and that you always loved me. God, I wish you would just talk. I miss your voice more than anything. I love hearing you sing behind your guitar. Every time I hear your voice I am always at ease. I can't believe I'll never get to hear you sing again!
A tear slid down her alabaster
cheek, smudging the makeup that she had worked on for hours. She wanted
to be perfect for him, but always seemed to fail. Even now, as her
emotions overtook her, she took great pains to keep her make up in place.
She wiped the tear away with the sleeve of her black shirt.
I remember the best night I ever had with you. It was shortly after we met, and all of our friends got together at that bar. It was open mic night and there were bands playing and everyone was drinking. But we didn't seem to care; we were lost in our own little world. Talking about philosophy and enjoying life. I felt like you understood my soul. What was going through your head? Well, it's not like it matters anymore. You made your choice. But I'll never stop loving you and I mean that. I love you, no matter what. I just wish that you could have loved me too.
I remember the best night I ever had with you. It was shortly after we met, and all of our friends got together at that bar. It was open mic night and there were bands playing and everyone was drinking. But we didn't seem to care; we were lost in our own little world. Talking about philosophy and enjoying life. I felt like you understood my soul. What was going through your head? Well, it's not like it matters anymore. You made your choice. But I'll never stop loving you and I mean that. I love you, no matter what. I just wish that you could have loved me too.
The lump in her throat swelled along
with the tears in her eyes. She let go off his hand. Then, soft as
feathers, she ran her fingers across the outline of his face. His eyes
were still closed but the lines around his eyes were finally visible to
her. They looked sad and slightly down turned. He had an inner
misery that he could not hide. His lips, though still closed, had lines
on them that needed a kiss. Not that she had the courage to get close to
him in that manner. He was never hers to begin with and she didn't want
to over step her bounds.
She sighed, her elegiac thoughts lost to obscurity.
She sighed, her elegiac thoughts lost to obscurity.
She was next in line to offer her
condolence to his parents. His death had brought them together as
well. The usually were at each others throats but today they could be
seen comforting each other.
The girl stammered but could not speak, before
giving his mother a hug. The mother's eyes were swollen and her nose was
a pink shade generally reserved for winter colds, and tears. The mother forced a smile of recognition.
The girl nodded, but before leaving she asked, "Why?"
The mother looked at her and it seemed as if a weight grew heavier upon her breast. She inhaled deeply with a slight pause before she handed the girl a sealed envelope. The girl started to open it but the mother shook her head no as a tear slid down her face. She fought to regain composure. Her husband gave her a fierce hug and cradled her head into her chest.
The girl nodded, but before leaving she asked, "Why?"
The mother looked at her and it seemed as if a weight grew heavier upon her breast. She inhaled deeply with a slight pause before she handed the girl a sealed envelope. The girl started to open it but the mother shook her head no as a tear slid down her face. She fought to regain composure. Her husband gave her a fierce hug and cradled her head into her chest.
The girl walked out of the funeral home and
back to her car. It was a cold night, and a full moon lit the parking
lot. She had never felt so alone in her life. Once back in the uterine
safety of her car, the girl opened the letter. The inside was stained with a bloody finger
print. She read it feverishly and clasped it close to her heart. This letter would forever be a sacred relic
of a love lost and found at the same time.
The woman broke into tears and the make-up stained her face, but she no
longer cared.
“The mystery of love is greater than
the mystery of death.”-Oscar Wilde
