Remember To ForgetRemember To Forget
If you love her let her go ~ Jon Foreman, My Love Goes Free
She came to me every evening, right about the time that the sun washed everything with a golden light, as shadows danced in the corners of my dark blue wall-papered room.
She was a hazy shape, grainy, like the old black and white Mickey Mouse cartoons they used to play on TV.
I was delighted when I saw her, and frightened at the same time.
She was just as beautiful as I remembered her. We sat on the bed and reminisced about all the fun times we had.
She wore that same white dress I remembered her wearing, her bronze hair bouncing around in a short pony-tail.
Then, just as she did every evening that I got to see her, she began fading, more and more, along with the evening sunlight. Her hazy form grew softer and softer, until she only looked like dust particles in the golden sunlight streaming through my window.
And then she was gone.
Oddly enough, knowing ghosts were real, I did
These HandsThese Hands
The rain tumbled down through the cracks in the sky,
which made your hands grow.
Watch your hands grow
~ Eisley, Just Like We Do
The first thing these hands felt was the warmth of a soft pink blanket, white walls surrounded the owner of the hands, and through newborn blurry eyes, an its a girl balloon could be seen.
At the time these hands were only small and porcelain white, the owner of the hands took for granted the sensation of feeling.
Two years later, these hands learned the feeling of all sorts of things, small toys, bed sheets, the warmth of being held in their mothers arms.
And still they took for granted being able to feel.
Five years later, when the owner of these hands turned seven, a big birthday party was thrown for her, and these hands learned the feeling of a horses mane.
Their fingers intertwined with coarse black and white hair, holding tightly to the small pony. Though the owner of these hands was cert