Short Story Collection

You sit under the fading sunlight, honey spilling from the skies onto your lap.

Your hair is a mix of golden brown as we sit at the beach and watch the sunset.

Your way with words is astronomical, all I can do is listen, but as you speak your mind all I do is sit mute, basking in your warmth that compares to the sun.

I want to tell you how much you mean. I want to show you that you feel like a dream. Yet I cannot open my mouth to speak as you trace your heart on the reflective and magical beach.

I hold onto you too tight, like those sweaty summer nights, and you hold me back as tight, clinging to me like those tears in your eyes.

Once upon a time we looked up at that cloud, admiring its elegant flowing. Now I look upon that star, shining its light like you used to. The black hole that is my soul consumes my being.

I want to hold you tight the way I used to, I want to hug you and never let go. I want to keep you by my side and remind you everyday how much you mean.

Maybe it wasn’t my fault or maybe all the fault lies with me, I may never know. You were my sunshine, my day and my night, the dreams I never had and the nightmares that plagued my mind.

I want to place the blame on you, on anyone, yet I cannot bear to do so. Just like those sweaty summer nights, and that time we danced under the midnight light, I sat there mute as you calmly spoke your mind.

Your smile that radiates sunlight, your hands, so delicate and gentle, your eyes, so deep and enthralling, your voice, so alluring and enchanting.

Your touch is like a drop of warm honey, your smell like the stars on a warm summer night, warm and captivating.

A touch sealed the deal, and a kiss under the moonlight filled the cracks. We shared a midnight dance, the one you promised would not be your last.

Is it all me? Am I to blame? If I were there for you that night, would you have slipped away?

Would you have stayed if I sat and I begged, instead of standing far to the side, quietly and upset? Would that trip to the tower have been any different, if only I had agreed to come with?

The tears slip down my face, for the first time in years, the way you slipped out of my grasp so easily, and I want to rip off this silencing mask. Yet again all I can do is sit mute, as the ones you loved mourn, all I can do is watch the woman on the flute, as she plays what I know was your favourite song.

Did I ever tell you I learnt it for you? Did I ever manage to give you the gift? It sits heavily in my pocket, weighing more than my heart can bear. The beautiful silver band, with your favourite stone to top it off. Your pulchritudinous name engraved on the inside, one to match your now fuzzy face. Your once dulcet voice, now a soft murmur in my mind.

Did I ever tell you why we shared that midnight dance? Or why I took you by the hand? Did you ever learn why I often sat mute, or that often it was your wondrous presence that left me in such a state?

Now I know I told you, under the warmth of the rising sun, what you meant to me, what I would do for you, but now I know that it’s all too late.

Why does it matter anymore? I often ask myself that now. It’s too late to save you, too late to bring you back. But I know exactly why I hold on so tenaciously, I know why I sit every night humming softly to what I remember was unironically your favourite elegy.

Your voice, soft and melodious as you sing that elegiac tune, and you always told me that everything I did for you, you would hold close to you. I want you to know, as your angel floats to heaven, that I will forever love you until the end of my line.

Sleep well my dear, for I am here, and I will be here till the end of time