Roses for the deadMature

How can you let go of something, if it's all you've ever known, and it was all you ever wanted? What would you give up for your dreams, and are your dreams really worth what you'll lose?

October 1st 2015

Roses. God, how I hated roses. They were so beautiful, so perfect, the way the petals swayed in a slight breeze, the way they smelled reminded me of home when I still had one. I couldn't stand roses.

The trees and the wind were talkative today, they swung back and forth, whispering secrets amongst each other like young women, who'd become enamored in some boy, hormones being mistaken for actual feelings. The leaves being mix of God's palette of colors which fell to the ground when too excited.  The grass parted as my feet trudged along continuously, seemingly endlessly. I knew there wasn't that much farther to go though. 

Yeah, I knew this path more intimately than I knew most people. It was an old friend, and my closest one anymore. Everyone else scattered with the wind after the summer. So I was left here, in this lonely autumn that was slowly becoming a cold, cruel winter.

The clearing was getting darker with how many trees there were now. The shadows blocked out any light that would have formerly penetrated this place. The sun was blocked out so I could face my sins, no, so I could face him, in the comfort of the dark.

“Looks like I got my wish,” I muttered quietly “I’m alone with you again.”

The grave did what it was expected to do: be a silent monument to what was. So why in the hell I was bothering to talk to it was beyond me. I just felt it, that pull, like he was sitting there next to me again...

Maybe it was just some bland attempt to speak to the dead and make amends, maybe it was just my mind fracturing from the pain, but the feeling faded almost as soon as it came about.

“I brought you these.” I said quietly, “I hope you like them, you know how much I always hated flowers, but I’m not the one getting them, so it doesn’t really matter now, does it?”

Still, the grave didn’t respond. Not that I was expecting it to, I simply hoped that words might fill the place of this deafening silence. I moved a little bit of blonde hair out of my face and sighed incoherently.

"Remember this summer?" I asked it monotonously, "Our senior year? God, it was great, but it was horrible too."

"Would you take it all back?" I murmured to the dead leaves that covered the head stone, "I don't know if I would take it all back."

I paused for a moment as the wind picked up and the trees rattled violently as a gust of wind blew across, causing the leaves to pick up and fly away with it, leaving me alone with a cold stone, marked with letters and dates. 

"Actually, if it meant having you here again," I said, with a change of heart, "I would take it all back, even if it was for just five minutes with you." 

The wind died from a roar to a quiet whisper, seeming almost moved by my words. I knew it was only nature though, no matter how much I wanted it to be him, giving me some sign that he was still here and he was still listening and he still cared.

 Why are you even bothering to talk? You know he can't hear you. A voice in my head rang out loudly, trying to push sense back to the front of my mind.

"Maybe he can hear you." A smooth voice sounded from behind me.

I turned and she was there, but why? Well, what did it matter really? Not that much. I was glad she was here.

"Lily." I murmured, as she moved towards me without a sound, "What are you doing here? I thought you left..."

"I'm here the same reason you are," She said, "I came to see him, and I had a feeling you would be here. I guess I came back to make amends too."

"You and those feelings," I muttered under my breath, before finally returning my gaze to her, "You've always had a sixth sense, you just never admit to it."

She looked at me, with those deep, cerulean eyes, and I finally felt sympathy. She was wearing her black skinny jeans, and signature black leather jacket covering the shirt beneath it, the one with the water colored butterflies. Her combat boots made a loud thump as she sat with me. Her black hair was still in those beautiful wavy curls, the way she always had them, and her choker necklace with the pendant of a full moon caught my eye like it always did.

"Does it matter if I do have some sort of extra sense?" She looked at me with a pained expression, "It can't change anything, it's never let me change anything."

"You changed me." I said, turning my head towards her, "You always helped me when I needed it."

"Even if I was able to help you," She mused, "We're both still sitting here. It didn't help with this."

"This isn't your fault though." I said, with a quiet pause tears welling up in my eyes, "It's mine. It's always my fault and it always will be."

"Austin," She said, scooting closer to me, and pulling my face into her chest, "The blame lies with everyone. There is no one person at fault."

"I never did right by him though." I wept silently.

"You're here now though," She said, lifting up my eyes, "Isn't that doing something right? He'd want you here, I know he would."

"I wasn't good to him when it mattered though Lily," I sobbed, "Even if I'm here now, what does it matter? I was never there for him when he really needed it. I failed him when it was most important. I'm the worst thing that ever happened to him."

"Austin," She comforted, "We all failed him, every last one of us."

I stopped crying and wrapped my arms around her.

"God I missed you," I said, looking into her eyes, "You were the only thing that kept me afloat."

"I missed you too." She said, putting a hand on my cheek.

We sat there for a while, her arm wrapped around my waist. The leaves falling around us in this dark corridor, with only one bright spot in it, that tomb stone.

"We need to talk about this," She said, "About this summer..."

"I know," I murmured, "I needed to remember, I've been blocking so much out. I just couldn't do it alone."

"I couldn't do it alone either," Lily said, "I needed someone to hold my hand while I went down memory lane."

"Well," I said quietly, "Let's start walking then, we'll get there sooner if we start now."


The End

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