08 May 2009

days like this

While walking back to my dorm this evening, I realized that the days I will remember, the memories that I will cherish, are the ones that I have made in the past few weeks. The nights that I've had and the days that have surrounded them.
It's the haze in the early morning sky that surrounds the trees and envelops the walkways. With the dew wetting my feet come the tears slipping slowly down my cheeks. It's in the light of the lamps shrouded in glowing rainbows shooting in all directions and the glare that is left in your eye when looking away. The silent strength of the trees and the perfect blue of the starry sky.

It's nights like this...when I'm walking back to my room when I realize how many memories I've made. From silly paint and switching shirt sizes to spooky darkness and our own personal "jams." Finding solace in old pictures and the warmth of a soul so close to our own fills empty hearts and mends shoes in order to make more confident steps forward.

Letting go is something I've learned to do and yet cannot master.

I tell you I hate this and myself because I find it so hard to believe how much I've come to care. This attachment runs deep, love. Time and distance make no difference to these memories that will last forever. We'll be old and gray, still wearing our band t-shirts and fiddling with phones to text each other the latest gossip.

Facebook and Twitter will be ideas of the dark, distant past and yet they will live on continuously in our minds and in our actions. The goofy faces we make have been recorded in the pictures we post and videos we record. Memory will fade with time, but our laughter, jokes, and fun will ring on for lifetimes...

It's days and nights like this that I know I cannot ever forget! Forgetting would be inconceivable...impossible.

It may not have seemed like much, but I will always remember your hands. Like you, they are beautiful to me. They hold so much and yet are willing to reveal so little.
To forget you would be to forget the lines etched in the sand from the ebb and flow of the tide.
The surface of the sand seems so smooth and inviting. An outsider would never know what is truly hidden beneath the sands of time. Taking one step closer can lead you into a whirlwind.

I step forward in anticipation and excitement...inviting.

The water contrasts the sand. Lines flow deep and wide, ever changing...ever present.

To forget the tides would be to forget your hands. The twitch in your thumb and deep etching of your palm. The horizontal lines that run so frightfully in opposition of the prints of your fingers. Worry and stress show in these carved lines and in the unevenness of your nails. However, there is a peace..an understanding. The softness of your fingers and hand show the deception of your outward voice and that there truly is a side that others cannot seem to find.
First perception and many after leave the world to ponder these mysteries. You are strange and often unreadable; a challenge. Your calm, cool, collected exterior is contrasted and few see this. There is a war inside you, a worry that many will never understand. The lines that inch across your hand show the pain that has ravaged your life and heart...but the top of your hand and curve of your fingers show that you are strong and unwilling for hard times to rip you through and through. While your hands are calloused and used, showing your love for many activities, they are soft, full of strength, and vulnerable. You put up a wall to hide your heart, the 'sappier' side of things. Deep down you are one of the most beautifully caring people...your heart ready to risk itself, yet you don't trust it.

As your hands show, you are the epitome of a rose...delicate on the inside, but with a defense that will knock them down, rock them down.

"Honestly" - Cartel

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