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What if you remembered everything - xobba.com | xobba.com

What if you remembered everything

 I remember everything

 

I could feed off your presence. A fleeting moment together could charge my day. Yet, you will never know that.

Caged by appropriateness, these sparks will never be recognized. We ignore them –knowing its a futile feeling.

They are just sparks. Whats it matter that the universe suggests we should collide – its evident when we cross paths. This chemistry is undeniable. But, we were just journalism majors, weren’t we.

 

Its a shame, really. A waste … never will we see what flames these gentle embers could become. I don’t know why my hand brushes yours at the bar. I don’t know why we huddle so close and whisper amongst the noisy crowd. State secrets like “Hi” don’t require us to fidget with our clothes, there is no way you need to brush your hair out of your eyes that many times to see me three inches away. Sometimes, I catch a whiff of your lotion – its sugar cookie I think .. I smell it on passing women in the mall and on waitresses at restaurants.

That smell makes me hungry. A primal hungry. It’s dangerous. So, I buy a drink.

I look forward to the goodbyes – just so it becomes appropriate to wrap my arms around you again. If only I could get you to leave everyday.

She says we stand to close together when we talk. I try to keep my distance. This will never be but what it is.But, its always so loud – we have to get closer to hear. Come closer. Here come a little closer.

One day, I will look back and I will always wonder – was is fear or honor that made me ignore the sparks. I hardly know you. But, I remember every moment we shared. But, did we ever share anything?

I once watched a single bead of sweat drip down your neck – a solitary pearl – almost an insulting reaction to 99 degree weather. You dropped a single pearl – my eyes ate of you as it followed your jawline and dropped between your breasts.

Was I wrong to notice? It was inappropriate wasn’t it… Im taken, my eyes must be blind, my imagination should stay dulled. How dare my body betray me by sending sparks through me at your presence. Such monstrous skin I live in.

 

One day, We will be strangers. Or I, a stranger to you. See, but I remember everything and its not as great as you imagine. Don’t smile when you talk to me, its not fair.

 

- excerpt from upcoming tentatively titled book- “Strangers I Love” by James Medfield Geery

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