Say You Were Made to Be Mine

The welcoming sensation of taste had long been revoked from day to day life yet the one prominent touch of memory lingering on the tongue was of the love that got away and the faint trace of cigarette smoke from their final night in that abandoned parking lot.

When apart for too long, the desperation to quench desires of excruciating proportions took hold and made it impossible to focus on anything else but sweet release. How can sleep be accomplished when the thought of their bodies as one made the little hairs on the arm perch upward into the faint dimmed light that illuminated the empty, pathetic hovel that only the hopeless call a room.

It was amazing how many details the mind could retrieve even in the most torturous of times. By simply closing eyes from reality and taking a small, private breath, the characteristic scent that by all accounts of the world to be nameless, gripped the consciousness and enveloped all the happy memories in a dangerous aphrodisiacal cloud.

With enough determination, the familiar voice that once held a singular love in each word spoken would orchestrate through the surrounding space with no less enchantment and charm than the most alluring of sirens trapping those hopeless sailors unaware of their impending deaths; justified only with the fact that before they experienced the final uproar of pain and anguish, they at least discovered what it meant to feel the power of unconditional affection and love; whether it be real or not.

Enough was enough. Sitting around and imagining the presence so wished for could no longer relinquish the sorrow of loneliness. What is to be human if not to throw caution to the wind for the selfish cravings we all aspire to experience?

Without thought, without caution, without fear of consequence, all that stood between the continued loneliness and release was a suburban red wooden door.

Four knocks, each more loud than the next, stirred the only life that mattered on the other side and eventually, that door opened.

Finally. To see those eyes once drowned by sleep now fresh with a newfound intoxication welcomed this aching soul who if commanded would kneel to the floor.

"I can't do this anymore. Forget the lives we chose. Screw anyone who's so bothered by what we have. I'm tired of waiting for the right moment. I can't sleep, I can't breathe, and I can't live any life with meaning without you. I love you with everything I have. Say it. Say you were made to be mine and I will spend the rest of my days proving that you were mistaken; that in reality it was you who were made for me."

With a pathetic whimper to end such a desperate plea, a frustrated yet tortured groan followed suite right before their lips finally touched after what seemed to be an eternity of waiting. The impact was swift yet held the passion with a power and bliss that was too great for any one soul to handle. To survive an overwhelming clash, neither one let go or left any traceable space between them.

Or so it felt.

When the first tongue tantalizingly traced those eager lips for an invitation, who could have not foreseen the host to undoubtedly accept and return the intimate favor?

By the brisk wind of the piercingly cold night, they entered the house. All around was dark. Figures of the furniture and family touches hid from importance once a hand began exploring the exposed skin.

Pleasurable sighs and hungry moans filled the room; careless of any other soul that may be present.

The living room was the furthest from the perfect place of reunion, but it might as well have been the Taj Mahal if separation would no longer be playing a part in their lives anymore.

Clothes were removed with a carnal drive yet once skin made contact, it was as if silk had ran along their bodies at each touch.

While on the couch, feeling how much they have missed one another without restraint, a miraculous phenomenon had occurred.

Every single emotion could be felt without conflict.

Strength could be matched with weakness in harmony.

The light welcomed the dark as its equal.

Did the universe stop to give these two souls their moment of euphoria? Had the laws of physics ben interrupted by the power of their undeniable love? Were they too consumed by their selfish need for each other's flesh that the chemicals in their brain tricked them to think that nothing unfortunate could come from such a ravenous affair?

Perhaps the answer is one, none, or all. the result held no significance to slaves of their building aches.

But as reality hits, and the desires have been released from the caged prison of restraint, the devastating truth always waits when your body is ready to survive without the fantasy.

This was most certainly the case for married man Derrick Carter, waking up in a cold sweat in the early morning. His breathing was erratic yet his wife had not stirred an inch.

Not again...dear God not again.

His dreams of his long love had usually been bittersweet and innocent. Yet on the evening of the seventh anniversary of her tragic death, something inside of him could not contain what his mind, body and soul yearned for.

Her name was Olivia Swan, a spirited young woman who made him face life with less fear and more excitement for adventure. But she was also reckless with her self-care and believed she was immortal like so many people do.

After puffing as much smoke as a chimney from a young age, she eventually developed an intense case of lung cancer that had been diagnosed too late and there was no other choice than to let her die as peacefully as possible. Little did Derrick know she had secretly killed herself in the hospice center to avoid dying too painfully.

Before she had gotten sick, the two fought about how they wanted to live their lives and broke up. When Derrick tried to find her and apologize for being harsh with his words, she had disappeared from his life without a trace. That was, until he began volunteering at a hospice center and discovered that she was a previous patient. The news devastated him.

For so many years he blamed himself until he blamed her then began switching back and forth. Why did it matter that her life wasn't planned like his? Why couldn't he have just accepted her and allowed himself to follow her so they could have more adventures together?

Then again, why couldn't she have been more understanding of him? Why did she have to leave without at least saying goodbye? Did she not love him as she claimed to have?

It was her death that made him realize that a gravestone was no symbolization of a person's life. That glorified hunk of rock served as a marker. But that doesn't stop her from leaving flowers as often as he can. He was always careful to make sure they were vibrant and beautiful. If her gravestone was going to be a harsh and stoic remind observers of her premature demise, then why not it be accompanied by a bouquet of flowers that reflected her life and what she brought to others.

Sometimes he sees other flowers that someone from perhaps her family or social circle bring her but they always looked cheap and plain. Or perhaps he is too bitter to think anyone cared for her as much as he did.

Her cause of death not only made him miserable, but pleading for an end to his fruitless life. The only thing that made him feel close to her was a slow drag of a cigarette. His wife hated the fact that he smoked but nothing could stop Derrick from using any of those bitter tools of tobacco if it meant he could be transported to those glorious days with Olivia.

One puff from his lips followed by a heavy cough would soon lead him to recognize her figure dancing in the smoke of his exhale. She was his mystical genie and every cigarette or cigar was the magic lamp that briefly granted his one wish: to see her again.

Over the years he had hoped his nasty little habit would have sent him to an early grave. But alas, he lived until his his reflection showed the deteriorating bitterness he felt from years of grief.

Derrick lived a long life, and at his own funeral some would say he had lived it happily and fully. But much like that bleak headstone, any claim that he took an obstacle by the reigns and lived his best life was a lie.

If that is the case, then perhaps it must be.

Should his family know what a miserable man he was?

Did others need to know how Olivia made his life worth living?

He could imagine the hurt in his wife's eyes and in his children and their children. If the truth were to come out, were their grief and sense of betrayal worth carrying around for the rest of their lives because Derrick was not strong enough to move on from his first real love?

Life may have dealt him a cruel hand, but he was not so blind to do the same to others who had no part in his mistakes.

His wife will most likely survive beyond him and upon seeing Derrick buried in the ground, she will live on with the love she held for him and nothing less. His children would be proud of his lengthy life and his grand-children will be thankful that he stuck around to get to know them.

That is how it should be for a man on the brink of death. Let them believe in the best during the time of the worst.

As for Derrick, he knows his last thought will be of Olivia. Back when she was young, beautiful, angry, feisty, and so full of love he believed she carried for him.

Till his last days, he could never decipher how she truly felt about him all those years ago. But when his time to leave the world he wasted in comes, he knows that despite everything, Derrick can fall into the abyss with the thought of her smile.

Come Hell or Heaven, a new life or nothingness, he will die knowing that in the span of his life he experienced what humans crave for when they believe to have met the love of their life: meaning.

And to think, all this was brought back to his memory and senses by seeing her dance and laugh as he smoked his cigarette; wishing she was there snapping it out of his hand and reminding him that she was right there next to him.