Do you remember when we stood on the rocks as a thousand tons of water crashed over the edge mere inches from our feet, but we had eyes only for each other? Do you remember those days spent in the breathless heat of summer, when things were new and silences weren’t awkward, and the flowers of the garden and of the heart were in full bloom? Or the gray light of the early winter morning limning your window, as the snowflakes danced down outside and we idled the hours away in talking? Do you remember when I traced the lines of your face and would have chosen no other artist’s masterpiece to look upon? Do you remember how I fit into your embrace, and how when you held out your arms I could simply fall into them, how warm and close and right that felt, how easy it was not to have to think about what it might mean? Do you remember when life was still uncomplicated?

My journal is full – I have no words left to write. In their stead memories press in like migraines, each vying for some expression that I lack the skill to bestow. Their clamor consumes me, overwhelms what my mouth might say, and in the end it all trickles into silence as I stand helplessly by. All that’s left is the chill of the winter wind blowing through this slow-healing wound.

And now it’s all in vain, for I call you by a different name, and the flowers have withered, the grass is frozen with the chill of November, and the waterfall has been marked with a death.

Do you miss it as much as I do?