Why did she visit your dreams for so many nights? How selfish of her. You haven’t seen her all summer and yet her nostalgic voice soothes you and her hands hold you as you drift through sleep.

     

You wonder if your presence ever made its way through the depths of her mind, wandering through the twists and turns of her peculiar thoughts and memories.

     

Maybe that’s why you felt the need to hop on your bike, like many other nights before, and ride the familiar path to her house. The air felt suffocating and you were wearing way too many clothes.

     

Why did you take this time out of your night to see her? Why would you want to see someone who hurt you so badly? Were you full of guilt? Anger? You were too calm to be angry but too proud to be guilty.

     

Why are you still holding on to a rope that has already been severed?

     

Why do you do all of this—because you miss her? 

     

You can’t even answer my questions.

 

You walked up the oh-so-familiar stairs to her front door. You stood there, awkward. Every second felt like years as your hands clasped together and apart. No other time was like this, but things were different. Things had changed.

     

What are you holding on to?

     

What you already know?

     

The night had aged. It was already too late before you even got there. The stairs stayed the same when you walked out, yet your world felt changed. In a sense, you already knew the answer to your demise. It’s easier for you to not say it, to not admit it.

     

You allowed it to hang in the air surrounded by desolation and followed by your sigh of rejection.

     

“Let’s forget about it for now.”

 

You never let things go.