Her name was Sara

Her name was Sara, and she’s long gone now, but I remember everything about her like it was yesterday. She was the one and only love of my life.
The light always caught her blond hair, and her eyes always shined blue like an ocean. Her skin was milky white, and when she got cold, her cheeks would turn pink. She cried the day Syd Barret died, just like me-and I never knew why, but for some reason when I talked to her-even when I wasn’t saying anything; she always had this smile on her face. And it’s that smile that I miss the most.
People ask me to go out sometimes, but I just say no. I don’t know why anymore, I just do. I can’t use her as an excuse anymore, because it’s been four years, but I can feel smell the warmth of her lying besides me. I feel like I’m apologizing again…maybe I am. I know I’m responsible for all of this destruction. The more I think about her, the more I want to forget her. Is that wrong?
So here I am, confessing the very thing that I hold so close to me. Maybe I’m hoping that if I publicly renounce my love for her, that she will disappear in spirit, just like she has in every other form.
Her body has disintegrated underground, and every time I visit her grave, there seems to be one less flower, one more weed, and her name carved in that stone seems to fade more and more.

Her name was Sara

the1youforgot

Windermere, United States

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