Member-only story
Sunset, Sunrise, and Everything In Between
Prose Poetry
Sunset
You took my hand as the horizon burned with the colors of a forest fire, and I wondered if it was a bad omen to think of wildfires on a day that should have been pristine and untouchable.
Hand to hand, skin to skin, memento to memento — we were dreaming of beginnings even before the rings grazed our fingers.
In that moment, I wanted nothing more than to be the figure at your stand — for as long as it lasted, for as long as we lasted.
Was it wrong to have the thought of an ending to mar the beautiful surface of what we were?
I still don’t know, do I?
The Between
Everyone forgets the middle until they’re in the thick of it, living fabrications and pretending the lies are just the poison of reality.
We drank other people’s ideas of what our future should be. We sipped at concoctions and tried on costumes that they told us would fit us for the rest of our lives.
I told you I wanted more, and you just smiled at me in that quiet way of yours.
“It’ll be enough,” you said, and maybe I should have heard the spark of danger like a match being struck.
