Tuesday, December 1, 2015

I Fell in Love with Him in the Fall
Briana Ramirez

I fell in love with him in the fall...when the autumn tones were just beginning to sprout, and the evergreen trees were beginning to die...the same way my heart began to die, withering away almost as consistently as the winds. I was just so young and he was so experienced in all things considering that I had forgotten how to take care. I wanted him..I wanted him in the  same way a child longs for a soft spoken word at the shown of night.  Yes I remember it now, the leaves. The leaves were falling down right over the hill side. Bright and radiant colors they were; yes. He wanted to take me in for himself, once and for all. He took me as the sun set its stories in motion on the evening sky. He and I had our hands dyed with the colors we explored in each other's pallets. I had wondered in another life what he could've been; a da Vinci or a Rafeal.

I had reached my hands out to touch something so fragile and new, and as if almost simultaneously; he crumbled within my hands. Forging something completely foreign to my body. I am a painted canvas, only tinted with the colors that originate from him. I am the ocean that only follows his winds. And within our printed pasts, we found each other. Sailing nowhere but here, right where we belong...in each other's arms. The light creme of his skin pressing against mine, in this monastery of chaos I found safety. I want to cry, I truly do. Our life had converged into a work of immortality and art. I’d think he carried me away to his own symphony. The keys playing to my own words now. I fell in love with him in the fall. I fell in love with him when the autumn tones….

Can you hear the piano keys in the open breeze? Can you paint a canvas with oils and a bag full of ideas? Can you set a cinema production into the sky as the sun begins to set? No. So no one can tell me he wasn’t the one for me...because with him I made dreams into ideas. I turned ideas into projects, and those projects into ink that wrote it’s name on my dialogues of experience. I fell..

I fell in love with him in the fall...when the autumn tones were just beginning to sprout, and the evergreen trees were beginning to let go of their color...in this way I felt peace...because him and I weren’t meant to be together...in his eyes.

I suppose I had seen it coming from days on end. Waking up to witching hour only to find that he had already cursed me. Within only moments he had conjured a million of reasons why he couldn't come back to bed with me. I had become the reason.

No, in his eyes we weren't a work of controversial art...we were a dirt clay sculpture, molded together by amateurs. We weren't playing to our own sweet tune, but a broken harp in much need of a fix. A fix that I apparently could not supply with my one track, simple thinking mind.

So now I call upon the shadows to keep me warm. I beg the cold to forsaken me. To forsaken and leave my aching chest. I ask the sun to please remain where it is sent...and to stop showing me the rainbow…

Without a tinted canvas to call my own, a summer breeze to ride against the shore line...and a soft spoken word at the shown of night…

I am nothing but a cold hearted woman -- hiding from the sunlight.

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