(written: Jan 29, 2008)
I tore through the water, sure as hell this was all my fault and there was no point in my continuing on when she could not- because of me. Knowing the expense of my own life would not bring her back, I still believed it was retribution for her death. I could swim with her, at least one last time; God had to give me that pleasure and I was certain of that fact.
I went further than my height allowed and once the inhibitors shifted gears, I tread less and swallowed more water than the Gulf itself contains. Still, I refused to give in. I was with her, “swimming” along side the wind and within the tide that pulled her ashes farther and farther from the shoreline. It was just her and I together beneath the moon following the shivering trail of its reflection through the dark- it was all the light we needed. Love is not blind even after it has been laid to rest. Her senses had intensified upon final rest so there was no need to fear the black abyss, and I was ready to embody such attributes if it meant we could be reunited. The swells grew larger and so did the aching in my lungs, but finally the emptiness looming in my heart was wearing thin. I was gaining distance, losing ground, and losing life all too rapidly.
There was a struggle, as in any drama, emblazoned with intense passions. And then came the eerie calm.
When I came to, you were smoking. Damn it, in my truck no less- you knew better, but I knew not the full weight of the actions that provoked you. You were still shaking, but from the cold or fear I could not discern. Obviously, you were angry and hurt and selfishly I still felt obligated to be angry with you in return. Why would I not? You stopped me.