I used to walk those streets at night. Bundled up in my light blanket, I used to kneel and pretend I could watch the frost grow on the neighbor’s lawns. The slightest breath dissipating the ice, in this moment, I am all powerful. My steps couldn’t wake a giant but if I could stomp and send the tremors of an earthquake to your doorstep, I’d make a mountain rise from the dust if it meant you would come down and tell me to stop. That you had class in the morning. That you had to wake up early and put gas in the car because you were taking her to the aquarium that day.
I’d look up at smile at the moon when I thought of you. Hold my hands out and thank goodness everyone was cozy in their beds because if they peeked out at that moment, they’d have thought I was crazy. Basking in the moonlight like some ethereal ghost, you used to love the way I talked of the moon. As if all that mattered was the way nature’s breeze caressed me at night, the way no one else would walk in the rain and embrace it as I would a summer’s light. At least when I’m in tears the moon doesn’t shy away. At least when my heart cries out, the moon beams and sends shivers down my spine. Does she even notice the rain when it pours past her window?
I don’t understand what people mean when they say the night is quiet. That it frightens them. What is there to be scared of? I close my eyes when I walk along the pavement and the seconds pass but the crickets sing to me. The leaves are always rustling and even when my lips turn red from the cold, I don’t mind because there’s nothing colder than the way you looked at me that day.
I don’t love you anymore.
What does that even mean because you used to smile at me when you held me. Your lips curling into a grin when our lips touch. You used to hold my hands to your chest and now when I hold my hands out to you, you look at me in disgust. I do not understand.
Because some days, the sunlight beams and I cannot bask in it anymore. But just because I go inside and turn the air conditioning on doesn’t mean I love the sun any less.
The blanket would start to fall off my shoulders so I’d hug myself until I feel the warmth again. Until I could mimic the warmth in your arms again, I could hug myself for hours and never feel as warm. I wonder if she notices the way your arms tense up when you hold her. When you held me. I wonder if your lips rest on the top of her hair. I wonder if she notices.
I pick my head off the pillow and pull the curtains back. All the memories of the nights before vanish as I watch the sun come up. I do not wish to see the sun today. I pull tight the curtains sending darkness to the corners of my room and throw the blanket over my head. The night is quiet. I didn’t meet the moon tonight.
