What Remains

Sometimes in my sleep I find myself back there again, his eager kisses on my lips, ocean air chilling my skin, thunder of waves ringing in my ears. The dizzy euphoria of new love - how quickly the heart fills!

And how slowly that love recedes. Or maybe it never fully does so...

I haven't once asked myself if it was worth it, to love so intensely only to find myself grieving its loss. I have no doubt that it was worth every moment, every tear shed since. It has been six months since we walked away, and the sad memories have already become hazy. The ache of loss steadfastly remains, taking up residence in a corner of my soul, but the sting has dulled, the resentment exhaled with each deep breath.

What I remember so vividly - even now - is the feeling of being wrapped up in love: joy and comfort, stillness and passion, all fused into one. Oh, this is what all those love songs and poems are talking about! I get it now.

I remember the hope that steadied us for so long, and I try to rediscover a little piece of it every day. Somehow I know therein lies my salvation. I hope I find myself willing to take that leap again. I hope I remain ever the romantic. I hope I never regret loving, because that's when I am truly, wholly living. I hope, I hope, I hope.