water (desert)

By Freyja Thomas

The promises we made were not, in fact, in vain. They were merely set aside while we were pinned down by responsibility, obligation, duty, and expectation. Privately, we would attempt to convince ourselves we had done the right thing. Publicly, we pretended we had not been altered. It was a love affair that had ended almost as abruptly as it had begun. We nodded, smiled, and agreed to anyone who asked if this was the right thing, it would have never worked, it would have ended badly, it would have destroyed too many people.
(We spoke a lot of lies. It kept us safe. You cannot nearly drown on the first trip without wanting to have a lifesaver in place for the second trip.)

Yet we would puff up our chest like brave warriors back from the war and while we did not speak ill of the dead, or the devastated heart of the other, we were sure of our near militant resolute to go forward.
Everything would be fine.

(This was also a lie.)

It is in the darkest of nights, when the world slows down and the only sound is the heartbeat of the earth, when we are exhausted and need comfort; when we really need to believe we are not alone; when we need to be reminded that such things and love exist, we rewind our memories to the beginning.
Eyes closed, breath relaxed, and hands eager to explore, the movie of us begins.

 

word count: 251