[personal profile] ofstarsandstone
We sit in darkness, munching trail bars we made together last night. You reach for my hand, and I give it knowing it may be the last time. We've had many firsts, and we've begun to have our "lasts," now, too.

Seven weeks, a moment stolen out of time.

I scuff my boots against the rock, listening to the scrape of stones as they skitter down the rockface beneath us. "I'll come visit you, later this summer," you say.

Maybe you will, but I already know it won't be the same. I'll be back in the real world, my reality, of school and friends and family and life. I say nothing, but squeeze your hand. I want to stay in this moment; I don't want to think about what is going to happen next.

The sky is turning grey. Some of the stars are too faint to see.

"What is your favorite memory of Colorado?" You ask, just to get me talking. You don't like silence, and I understand you need to fight off your melancholy with words.

"Hiking Audubon, probably," I answer, but I know you need more than that, so I elaborate. "I don't know if anything else in my life will ever quite compare to that experience."

"I've been to the top of mountains before, but the view from that one was pretty spectacular." You lean over, rub your lips against my hair. "So's the view right now," you say, and I feel my heart breaking open, a burst of pain and need and sorrow like the paintbrush smear of pink and orange and gold bursting over the far horizon. I look away from the sky, up into your big brown eyes.

"It's ok, I guess," I tease, and you lean over to kiss my mouth. After a moment I turn away, looking back out to the sky. "My last Colorado sunrise."

"Will you come back next year?"

I wonder if my answer will influence yours. "Maybe. I'll be graduating next spring, so I probably won't have time."

"I've still got a few years before I finish my MFA, but I might do summer stock at home." Hedging, just like me. That's ok. Maybe we both need the lifeline: the belief, however false, that what we have between us can somehow continue.

A red sliver appears above Boulder, thousands of feet below us. You put your arm around me, and we hold on to each other as we watch the sun rise.




(this entry was written for my week 6 entry to LJ Idol)

Date: 2009-12-01 05:52 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] http://users.livejournal.com/_mysticalelf/
This was lovely and sad all at the same time.

So..., do you think you'll go back?

Date: 2009-12-01 10:43 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] agirlnamedluna.livejournal.com
Aw, how melancholic and bitter sweet.

Date: 2009-12-01 02:12 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] phoenixejc.livejournal.com
Wow! This is beautiful!!

Date: 2009-12-01 09:39 pm (UTC)
shadowwolf13: (Default)
From: [personal profile] shadowwolf13
A very bittersweet entry. Thank you for sharing.

Date: 2009-12-02 03:16 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] onda-bianca.livejournal.com
For some reason, this is one of the more heartbreaking things I've read lately...it eats at my heart. How sad. I feel it. Lasts can suck...

Date: 2009-12-02 03:55 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] oneonthefence.livejournal.com
It's so - strange, how I know exactly what this is about, and yet, it feels like a brand new story to me. I hated that time period in our lives; it brought lots of lasts, honestly. We have this shared summer that wasn't completely shared, but threads of it were woven together. It feels like forever ago.

All I can say is that I love you, and I'm glad we are where we are now, and that's the most important place to be, I think.

Date: 2009-12-03 05:16 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] plastrickland23.livejournal.com
Never been to COlorado. Would love to see it one day. P.

Date: 2009-12-03 08:48 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] http://users.livejournal.com/____hejira/
Sad and haunting. Great job.

Date: 2009-12-04 12:22 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] imafarmgirl.livejournal.com
Beautiful and sad. I'm so glad it's not about someone dying as I first thought it might be!

Date: 2009-12-05 01:48 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] cacophonesque.livejournal.com
The end of shared summers is a feeling too familiar to me.

I loved this bit: I feel my heart breaking open, a burst of pain and need and sorrow like the paintbrush smear of pink and orange and gold bursting over the far horizon.

Very beautiful.

Date: 2009-12-05 05:50 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] sherriola.livejournal.com
This is bittersweet but with so much reality and beauty. Somehow it really spoke to me.

Date: 2009-12-06 06:55 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] karmasoup.livejournal.com
I know this place... been there a few times myself. You described it well.

Date: 2009-12-06 07:42 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] java-fiend.livejournal.com
Very beautiful and very sad. Nicely written.

Date: 2009-12-06 08:05 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] norda.livejournal.com
I've logged my own share of "lasts"m and thus can relate.

Date: 2009-12-06 09:09 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] walkertxkitty.livejournal.com
I'm a Colorado native and I sure do miss those sunrises; there's really nothing on earth which can beat them. You set the scene well and played out what could have been a cliche in an effective manner.

Date: 2009-12-07 04:11 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] islandman.livejournal.com
Aww. :( Very touching...and way too time-appropriate for me right now. lol.

Date: 2009-12-07 11:06 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] worldofcharlie.livejournal.com
Great imagery... and I feel the sadness as well...

Date: 2009-12-12 08:00 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] talon.livejournal.com
Short, but very sweet.

I very much like the tone.

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