Pleasureable Memories
I wasn't certain whether love could truly transform a person's life or not; I wasn't a philosopher like her. However, one thing was undeniably clear—I had changed without her. Nothing remained the same.
My very essence had undergone a transformation. The once vibrant sky above me now manifested as a dark, smoky gray. Heavy clouds laden with sadness and regret hovered in the heavens, burdening it with their presence, mirroring the weight of her thoughts on my heart.
Nothing was the same. Now, all I possessed were her thoughts, not her physical presence. The memory of the sensation of her skin against mine, the taste of her lips dripping like juicing nectar from flowers when she uttered my name restlessly, the intimacy of moments when I thrust my fingers inside her and savored her honey – all of it became a haunting absence.
Her taste was missing against my tongue, and I craved her presence throughout the night and into the mornings, longing for a connection that was no longer there.
I craved her scent as if it were my favorite drug, my addiction spiraling out of control. Everything had changed – not just me, but her as well.
She was different, transformed, and no matter how hard I attempted to expel her from my thoughts, she returned with a heightened force, fierce and persistent. Her memories penetrated every inch of my being, suffocating me in the dead of night, leaving me gasping for breath.
I remembered those moments vividly. Every encounter with her triggered a rush of sensations – my mouth filled with cotton, my heart racing, and butterflies gyrating in my stomach. After our first meeting, I began to see her everywhere – in the bus, at school, in the precious moments we shared, each etched in my memory as golden.
Our first picnic together lingered in my mind. All students were to assemble at the school gate by 8 am and board their respective buses. The entire night, I wondered about what she would wear – a pink dress or perhaps a purple one. Although the first time I met her, she adorned a black and red dress, a memory that clung to me with a grip as tight as her absence.
In the morning, as I sat in my bus, I caught a glimpse of her walking behind my bus. She wore a blue top, matching jeans, and curls framed her face. The image etched in my mind, I couldn't shake it for the entire journey.
Before reaching our destination, the weather took a turn for the gloomy. As we disembarked, a light drizzle began, prompting a rush back into the buses. Luckily, she boarded with me this time. We exchanged greetings, shared smiles, and settled in next to each other. Offering her my jacket, she accepted willingly.
It provided me with a surge of pleasure, knowing that at least my jacket was enjoying the advantage of being against her skin, if not me. We talked, listened to music together, held hands, made plans, and suddenly, as if in the blink of an eye, the rain ceased, and we were instructed to disembark once again.
"After you," I offered.
She smiled.
We disembarked the bus together and decided to take a walk, aiming to evade the gazes of most onlookers. Finding our way to a nearby park, we settled on a bench well-guarded by banyan trees, shielding us from direct view.
The scent of fresh garden roses wafted through the air, mingling with the captivating aroma of her presence. Her lips were on full display, reminiscent of blooming red petals. As we drew closer, our lips inching towards each other, the mere idea of their contact drowned out all other sounds.
I enveloped her in my arms, holding her tightly. Loosening my grip, our lips met, and the anticipation of her touch nearly silenced the surrounding world. The tender skin of her lips brushed against my rougher mouth, and our kiss intensified, with me pulling her head in tightly from behind.
Her lips were exquisite, reminiscent of a summer rain pouring minutes before, possessing the power to both take away and give back life. Time seemed to halt in a collision of senses when our lips met, my heart skipping a beat as she gasped. I felt her knees weaken and incline, my hand magnetizing to her softened core, fingers moving as if they had a mind of their own.
It felt like heaven as our eyes closed as if stars were twinkling inside us as the transparent blood thundered through our mouths. Now I pulled back but her arms remained around me.
"Your lips are so soft, " she said with wonder in her eyes.
"and warm,
and"...
she could not gather words and pulled me tight and her lips sought mine again.
That bubble of my tantalizing memories with her broke by the harsh nature of reality. Crushing my world of imagination under its huge, ruthless feet, it broke my heart multiple time a day as I built it up each time with the cement of her memories.
I slid out the drawer of side table and sift out a diary. No, I wasn't a writer nor did I liked pouring out my heart or personal stuff on the pages which could be steal anytime and anyone can peek into my life through it.
However, her betrayal forced me to kept one. It was dragging me towards her madness, her treachery. I could imagine my life without her. But I can't force her to be with me.
Never.
It's her choice. Who am I to force her or anyone.
Considering my current condition I searched out for ways to maintain my sanity.
Though, knowing that my life was not possible without her now. I decided to spent the remaining writing about her.
It's her, I loved.
It's her, who cheated on me.
It's her now, I'll write about.
Every dot of ink my pen will bleed will write her.
I started bleeding my heart on the dry, white and blank pages of my diary and began painting them in her hues. So vibrant, refreshing, lively.
In each word I wrote. I see reflection of her. Smile, giggling. Kissing, hugging, teasing, and loving me in all the ways possible.
I began romanticing with her in my own world of imagination. No one was around to interrupt us except my own sorrows which time to time came back and strike my harder than before and I took refugee in the treasure of words.
I found them consoling my soul. Kissing my wounds, putting balm on them, and plastering them with bandage.
I decided to prove her ideology wrong as I took oath of living dedicating my life to her without having her around me.
I dedicated my life to her memories.