past and present

pip The smell of the salt in the air lingers. Grains of wet sand hide between my toes, forever reminding me of their presence.

This place where I stand holds years of memories. Beautiful, sweet memories, Some memories never go away. Even it might suit you better if they did, But the brain just doesn’t work that way. When you lose something (someone) You hold on to any piece you have left. Standing in the (our) cave, embedded in the cliffside I run my hands along the walls, not caring about the damage it might do.

The pain that these jagged walls might cause, is nothing new. The waves continue to crash on the sand, then retreating back To their happy place. Their happy place, Was our happy place.

Echoing sounds of laughter Are still ringing in my ears The sounds I knew all too well. Sounds of laughter against the crashing waves, Being drowned out To where you can barely hear them.

Two sets of imprints in the wet sand Are etched into my memory Like how the water is etched into the rocks. Permanently. I should be anywhere but here. But nothing exists for me anywhere else.

The only place where I (she) exist(s)

That was the past And this is the present.

But I would rather stay in the past. Before our last day With her, And be hurting inside. Then be living in the present. After our last day, Without her, And feel nothing inside.