The ducks were still there. The music was the same. I was out of breath again.
Has a fall been that silent before? I see everything rushing by. I don’t grasp at anything.
Slide.
I’ve never let go of anything that big. The handles carved experiences in my hands.
Miles cannot erase. My knees pumping cannot erase. My heart ready to burst will not erase.
One day, I said. One day you’ll see the ducks and hear the music.
It will take your breath away.
Go get it back.
it’s too fucking late. it’s gone. forever.
I can see the music and hear the ducks.(hahh hahh hahh hahh)Great metaphor for something lost.
weta: I love yours as well!
I love this piece.
Great writing.