if I could
2. treading through the crimson leaves
onho
wc 165
the world stops for a moment and I take this time to imprint your image onto my mind, indelible ink on a liquid surface. I want to remember the breadth of shoulders, the length of hair, curling eyelashes and paste a memory of you laughing, head thrown back and adam's apple bobbing, over your visage, a memory that no longer exists. a wind is blowing, but it stops with the world, and in another reality I take a step over the autumn leaves, crackled and dry, orange and red, a rhythm of death with no reminder of spring. in this reality, the reality I want, the distance between us is a small thing, easily crossed and we hold hands as we walk away and the memory of laughter is a memory no longer but truth- but this isn't the current reality. in this reality, the reality I'm living, autumn and crumpled leaves the color of blood heralds you leaving. and, wistful, I watch you leave.
yes this is onho, even if I don't say their names. shuuush.