Memories
It is dark. Dark and cold. The darkness outside matches the darkness of my soul. Darkness surrounds me, devours me. There is no escape, no hope. All that is left are memories. Oh Lucy, Lucy!
She was so beautiful. The way she moved and her enigmatic green eyes reminded me of a cat. My little cat. Sometimes affectionate and cuddly, sometimes wild and unpredictable. How I loved her! And she, an animal of the night, returned my love, maybe attracted to the darkness of my soul, a darkness I knew little about. So little I knew about myself! My life had been like a dream, a state of half-consciousness, superficial, fleeting. Lucy woke me up, leading me towards myself, deep into my soul.
And what a journey it was! The intensity of life was exhilarating, terrifying and wonderful. We went out into the world, experiencing it with all our senses, dancing, celebrating, laughing. And then we would shut out the world, and it was just us and the depths of our souls, hers filled with light, mine full of dark things. I was scared; but she led me on, not taken aback by the darkness she found, the fear, sadness and anger buried deeply in my soul. When she looked at them with her shiny eyes, they were transformed into places of melancholy beauty, mysterious, deeply romantic. We laughed and we cried. We were borne on the wings of love.
The wings of love, I said? How poetic, how romantic, how horribly clichéd! And yet how apt, in a cruel and unforeseen way. For a bird is flighty; and the bird that was our love did not stay with us. How did this happen? I have agonised over this, and yet I have found no answer. Was it something I did, something I said? Were the powers of darkness getting too strong, scaring her away? Or is this just the way of life and love, inevitably ending in sorrow and loneliness?
It happened gradually. Out in the world, we were still dancing, celebrating, laughing. But the moments when our souls met became more and more rare. I felt alone. One day when I looked into her eyes, I could not find her. I was looking at her like through a glass wall. The warmth and the light in her eyes were gone. I reached out, but could not touch her anymore. And then one day, she was gone.
It is dark, dark and cold. How I wish I could go back into sleep, into the dreamlike state I lived in before I met Lucy. But there is no way back. In the far distance, a bird is singing a sad song.