iamforilive

[iamforilive]

A letter from the grave.

And just like that. Here we were. 50 years into the future sat in front of each other the same way we did as teenagers. Except now he looked a little different, still handsome... just wrinkled by time, scrunched by the responsibilities of life and scarred by ever-lasting memories. His skin - once so delicate - has grown so rough, though my hands still caressed his cheeks in awe. And his eyes, reminded me of a sundown I could see just between the tops of the forest trees; the gold, the brown and the green hues each representing a different area of this hazel image in my mind. His eyes were the one feature that remained as beautiful as it was 50 years ago. There was more history in them than on his scars.

My darling's eyes looked tired though, but his smile hid the exhaustion on his face, with the extra trenches carved around this sculpture, the skin folded over the bags under his eyes like the sea does over the sand. Those were the waves of freedom and tranquillity. He continued to look at me, and I at him, analysing every imperfect perfection realising this moment was exactly why we started everything. My body fluttered, the same way it did when I met him. Some things don't change.

So I smiled, and continued to trace his pale skin with my gaze. Kissing every scar or wrinkle that my eyes fell upon. He's older now and yet not even the blemishes of passing days could cover his beauty to me...

Furthermore, his lips, oh the rosy hues paired with the asymmetrical smile made him look like art. But he was not a portrait, he was a body, a person... My person... I traced the softness of his lips with my thumb; plucking them accidentally to reveal his teeth. Now I'm reminded of the times I'd pick out a piece of lettuce for him just from between the gap before we go out for dinner. Or when he would playfully bite my cheek as he kissed it and call me by the sweetest names. Such small things like that bring such impactful memories and bring me a sort of quietude. With him I felt eternal because my love for him was eternal. I could swim in the picture he created in my mind and float on the surface - even surrounded by sharks. I was calm. I wasn't afraid.

Because I had him.

See though, I wasn't built to love. And yet... in him... I found every reason to try. And with every reason came a realisation, that love wasn't just a word to describe an emotion. It was a feeling. The feeling of being finally whole. Every painful thought being erased steadily from your mind; replaced with the memory of the moment - in which you feel in control of, in which you feel inlove with. And believe, I've searched for the cliché definition of love before. Because when you don't feel something, you rely on the description of it provided by others who do. And when it comes to endeavour in the sweetness of said love, you realise that time doesn't always stop. Your heart doesn't skip a beat. But instead, time becomes precious, something to cherish. And your heartbeat synchronises with the world around you.

And my heartbeat synchronised with his.

- - - - - -

Writers note:

I had always found immense beauty in older couples, they would always sit on a bench in a park together or walk on a beach holding hands and they looked truly happy, they looked as if they had felt immortal with eachother. Upon these observations my mind wandered, and I was inspired to imagine what it would be like to meet someone who made you feel this way so young and die with this feeling knowing that you've lived a life full of hope and love. Knowing that the troubles and pain were softened by that one life long parner.

I wrote "a letter from the grave" from the perspective an old soul reminiscing on her love after she had passed with her life long partner. I hope this short story allows you to see the same beauty I do in the world, and more specifically, in strangers.

{Skaiva}