Send me

Piles of the pasts withered ashes lie lowly, waiting apprehensively to be carried by the wind as she remembered. They had been laying in the uncut grass of the field for some time now. The few stratus clouds above were still, the shed behind them was hallow and whistling, and the daffodils were now screaming at the sun. It was an odd atmosphere but one they particularly enjoyed. He brought his favorite book of poems with him and began to read to her, I have been one acquainted with the night. I have walked out in rain- With his back flat on the blades of green and her head on his chest, they were still, taking in the October peace. Their ages were irrelevant with their feelings and in that there was not a sliver of doubt. -and back in rain. I have outwalked the furthest city light. I have looked down the saddest city lane. They were used to the monotonous city life with cacophonous car horns, easily irritated people, and the nonstop rush. She was wearing a yellow sundress with white paisley patterns drowning in the color and some backed sandals that were the newest fad. Her hair was as the light color wood floor in her apartment and was sandwiched between her head and his pecs. Her eyes were dark and focused but glistening by the rays of the sun. He bared a gray Walk the Moon shirt on his back with complementing jeans and Vans. His hair was starting to become rustled by the earth and his eyes were closed, just enjoying the intimacy that came ever so often. I have passed by the watchmen on his beat and dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain. Sometimes repetition got the best of their time and left an empty space in which necessary nonsense of relationships belong. The shed continued to whistle at them, inviting them in. It was a fifteen by ten foot shack of a sort with a water rusted hue. The couple was feeling adventurous that day, the sun was beating harder, and they both wanted the mood to be kept so the shed's offer was accepted. No words were spoken now, only kept thoughts. He put the book in corner on a random shelf and headed back towards the girl in a strut that made her laugh and her dark eyes glisten without the sun. If there was a moment they would remember, it would be this one. Their skin was gradually becoming more bare as their clothes were slid off one another and tossed to another corner, staring at each other now, without discomfort. She saw her initials residing on the left side of his chest and he traced the words that read Here am I, Send me inked over her right side. Soon her hands were trying to grip the flat floor than lie beneath them, her shoulder rested in his trembling mouth as he was hovering over her, and humidity in the shed was becoming greater. It was a perfect time, a perfect place, a perfect storm. Nobody around to know, nobody around to care, nobody around to bother. It was the last time, it was the best time, it was the saddest time. Had she known, she would have wept then and done it a thousand times over. It was lamentable, it was lustful, it was what they called love. Their irresistible desires to be irresistibly desired had been fulfilled and their need to love and be loved had been met. They lie there naturally, still upon each other, catching their breaths. He was the first to get up, he only retrieved his gray briefs and tossed her his shirt to hold them for the moment. As she slipped her arms and head through the sleeves and collar of the shirt he grabbed his book of poems and returned to her side. They regressed back to their former position with her head on his chest and his back pressing on the floor. In the softest of voices, he began again, Your skin like dawn, mine like musk One paints the beginning of a certain end. The other , the end of a sure beginning. The ashes were lifting now, the wind startled the flakes, and the past tried to cling for time to stay.