Remembering

I tried hard to remember your smell. The distinct bodily smell when your skin touched mine. That slightly pungent smell and that scarred skin.

But I remembered your hands easily. Your rough and calloused fingers. The lines and the corner of our bodies.

You have a loud voice. Always seemed to be contradicting, never in agreement.

The way you walked, so proud of always being in the spotlight. Like a dog barking each time a stranger passed, thinking he did well. That damned pride.

The stubbornness triggered, but the silence remained.

One closed door turned into two. Two closed doors turned into three which ended up being too many.

Sometimes people didn’t mean the words they say. But hurtful words stink and bite back.

And what if those hurtful words were meant precisely?

I don’t know what’s worse: giving in to the tears and be vulnerable, or pretending that everything is fine and let it rot the heart.

Just maybe, whatever it is that I chose, everything would stay the same.

The silence remained, but the heart beats.

I tend to fell in love the second time in the remembering part. Because it is the only part where I get to reimagine and forget the rest.

Remembering the two people who were meeting, but not hurting.

Kindness was so loud back then. But then what happened? Somebody probably stashed it away in a box. Like how one would hide his most favorite toy in a box.

It is always so much easier to remember the ache, because it leaves you a wound. Kindness leaves memories, but I guess memories fade faster than we’d like.

I’m trying to remember so I can finally forgive myself.

Prompt: Proof by Tiana Clark