The Art of a Life
VII.
That night the sky left me breathless. Or was that you? Our history was being written for us in theories that made us look stronger than we were. We weren’t hardened by what happened, but seduced by it, lured out by the idea of being young.
We wrote with our bodies new stories every day. Other people saw things in us that we never saw in ourselves. I could close my eyes and picture it; images of you and I, in a field where the stars shine so bright we can still see them through the tinted windows of your backseat. It's just enough light to see your face, faded eyes and a slurred smile.
“You realize how lucky we are, don’t you?” He’d ask, trying to pull me closer.
I could have fallen in love with that smile; maybe I can find a way to keep it for myself, to tuck it away with the rest of the things that we don't want to fade.
We wrote with our bodies new stories every day. Other people saw things in us that we never saw in ourselves. I could close my eyes and picture it; images of you and I, in a field where the stars shine so bright we can still see them through the tinted windows of your backseat. It's just enough light to see your face, faded eyes and a slurred smile.
“You realize how lucky we are, don’t you?” He’d ask, trying to pull me closer.
I could have fallen in love with that smile; maybe I can find a way to keep it for myself, to tuck it away with the rest of the things that we don't want to fade.
♠ ♠ ♠
I just hate this ending, but when I finished this it was due in 10 minutes so that is what I came up with. I obviously need to fix it.