Even in the depths of the night the contours of your smile appear in my mind, leaving tears cast into stillness at the back of my eyes.
Looking up to the hundreds of stars in the sky on this frigid night, I think about how we could never be more distant than these shining specks above. Unless we permanently change or no longer walk this Earth. Then… even the myriad stars could be reached before each other.
You were the moon shining brilliant light down onto the dark fields during our fondest days, making the stars vanish. Even after turning away and stopping the flow of that seemingly eternal light, despite disappearing, reminders of your beauty are contained across the sky in those uncountable little stars, each shining their own light from farther than could ever seem.
Waking reverie drives memories into my mind of us lying side by side, gentle breaths seemingly taken in synchronicity. Now so close in my mind but always seemingly an impossible distance away… what kind of desire does my soul harbor? Perhaps a mere innocent feeling of wanting to hold one’s hand while taking respite together somewhere safe deep into the night.
Today the sun fills the sky with warm light as it always has, but my hand seems to grow cold without the warmth of yours to intertwine with. If I shift my gaze to the horizon at just the right time when the sun sets, I’m transported back to that hot summer day when we walked together along that storied river as the stars began to emerge from the ashes of the blazing sky… we were just friends, and yet before I knew it, you will become someone who I would never forget.
You said I was the only one that could recreate the comforting feeling that you felt when alone. How could I have prepared myself to hear that from the moment we first saw each other in that quiet city? I almost thought you were scary. A woman possessing a mind as sharp as glass, walking with peerless intent, paying no mind to the echoing cries of the cicadas, your raven hair gently thrown about by the wind as if made of petals – scattered by the wind yet falling onto themselves again and again to form a strikingly beautiful visage… and yet when we met further west you revealed a completely new side of your being… a side that made me think we weren’t as different as I had thought.
A quiet, reserved personality that showed a profound and beautiful sensitivity to the world that surrounded you… you seemed truly special to me in this way. I thought of things like this when we walked together. You made me question if you were the same person I had seen before. Just as you questioned my kindness, seemingly the only thing I could give you.
“The most precious things cannot be conveyed through words,” right? A sunset over a shimmering river, the gentle sound of the trains going on their way, a warm breeze carrying the cheers of friends playing at dusk, watching the illuminated cityscape glow deep into the night, the smell of a freshly bought bouquet of flowers …
Even walking away after saying goodnight, looking over my shoulder at you and your smile, not knowing I wouldn’t have the strength to look back as I walked away again after our final goodbye…
“Let me forget you”
So I can relinquish these heartrending emotions that assail me when remembering those words exchanged with growing distance in time. So I don’t have to lay awake before sleep asking where you are when I feel so alone, regardless of how splendid the days or wonderful the people we find ourselves accompanied by.
What am I to you now? An interloper? He who transgressed on your mind? One who played a part in the reciprocal trickery of the feelings we shared those sultry summer nights? How am I to learn anything more of your infinitely complex nature? It’s far too late.
As I reminisce on these memories, it bothers me I didn’t say some things to you. Things that might have made you remember me more fondly.
Contentment.
Even now, why can’t I just understand that simple thing?
Maybe, I don’t just miss you but also feel afraid. Afraid of someone like you never entering my life again. No matter how many times others assure me these feelings will pass, that fear remains. Maybe, that’s why I’m so desperately trying to remember.
As I journey forth, I wonder if we would even recognize each other if we met again. Our faces enshrouded by dark or whatever other means. Our hearts, minds, souls, beings, must have already changed so much… they must have, haven’t they?
If I called out your name, would you recognize my voice?
Kai Gallivan is a rising senior at DePaul, majoring in Biology with a minor in Japanese language. He has always held a fond appreciation for poetry, especially that seen in novels and epics such as The Tale of Genji or The Tale of the Heike. Although not a frequent publisher, he hopes that his work may be enjoyed by those who take the time to read it.