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She left with my conscience/And I don’t want it back/It just gets in the way

March 16, 2012

Scintilla post #3: Prompt A: Talk about a memory triggered by a particular song.

A blonde man at a piano reading words off a page – a tattered page – fingers lifting over the keys – blue eyes – pale blue eyes – linger on – and I’m 16 again, hands kneading your shoulders – spending Halloween safely ensconced in your apartment, just you and me and her in candlelight, tea and chinese food spread out before us playing an awful awesome game of truth or dare – minus the dare – back and forth asking each other the most frightening, intimate questions we can think of. I told you I thought I’d died, that I was a character in a book who was really bleeding out in a bathtub as she drove cross country with a man and a woman who were there to show her the way back, reverse Charons, no payment needed. And you towered over me – put your arms on my shoulders – kissed my temple- played a song- a song I can’t ever not associate with you – All I ever wanted was to go slow dancing with you – told me how beautiful my eyes in the candlelight were – answered my question, “what was the most bittersweet moment in your life?”, with an image that haunts me to this day and you were so much older, wiser, better, cleaner than I was, how could I fail to believe in you and believe in your words and to love your music?

4 Comments leave one →
  1. Anabelle permalink
    March 16, 2012 10:59 pm

    This feels like how a memory should be written.

  2. jasonsbrain permalink
    March 17, 2012 1:39 am

    How easily love finds us when we are sixteen. Perpetually longing. To be young again.

  3. March 17, 2012 3:50 am

    The best text I know is stuff that I feel in my skin. This is one of them. Great writing!

  4. March 17, 2012 8:51 pm

    You’ve pulled my heartstrings. Your writing evoked nostalgia for me. Great song too.

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