Have you ever been scared of losing a memory? I am. I close my eyes on late nights and keep rewinding back to faces and moments. I try helplessly to remember every detail, freshen it up in my mind so I don’t forget. Sometimes it’s tiring but other times it is feeling exquisitely good.
There is a fear in me that I will forget his face, the color of his eyes or even worse, the taste of his lips. And maybe I did forget. Time is a killer of memories, of love. I push harder, deeper onto my subconscious; in the corner of emotions; all that I’ve felt is coming back but it’s never the same. Sometimes it is terrifying or sad; but mostly, it is sweet. The kind of sweetness that makes my tongue feel more humid, my lips twisting and my body craving for his.
Keeping my eyes closed, I try feeling his touch. I imagine his hands around me and for a second they’re wrapped around my body, pushing me closer to his marvellous skin. He’s here. His eyes are setting me on fire like lava on dry soil. His palm is touching my cheek and I feel safe. I’m in my own bed and he’s with me. He’s the angel of my dreams, protecting them, guarding my memories, loving me. He’s my salvation.
I can feel his fingertips struggling to keep on touching mine but he’s drifting away. I’m falling asleep. I see shades of grey and green. The dream is blurred and I lose him out of my sight little by little. I rub my eye with my right hand and touch the sheets around me, desperate, trying to find him. Then I see it all. I’m alone. There is a feeling of emptiness inside me; I miss him.