​An Incomplete List

No more waiting for the first snowfall of the winter, feeling the small specks of snow lightly descend onto my cheeks and my glasses. No more feeling lying within the fallen petals of my aunt’s cherry blossom trees in the spring. No more sunshine and tan lines mixed up within the chaos and sweat of summer. No more summer nights filled with midnight swimming sessions. No more roasting marshmallows to smush it between two graham crackers and a piece of chocolate, the satisfaction of that mixed with the crackling of the fire fueling you through the night. No more seeing the leaves slowly begin and feel the peak of summer begin to slowly descend into the calm of fall. No more big sweaters and hot coffees. No more blushing cheeks and red noses as you rush inside. No more watching the leaves dance in the street with the winds of change as it starts all over again. No more watching the seasons change.

No more emotions. No more overwhelming rage that builds up red hot in your chest only to pop in an episode of fury. No more laughter that you must muffle because its 3 a.m. and you’re both suppose to be asleep. No more tears to roll down your cheeks because they weren’t able to stay, or even worse, because they didn't want to. No more hysterics where somehow you’re crying so hard and giving so much that  you end up in laughter with the tears streaming down your face. No more pain. No more stubbing your toe on the corner of the couch. No more pinches on the back of your arm when you act up in public. No more heartache that feels like it will never end. No more love that ends ten times quicker.

No more luxuries, and no more struggles. No more ice cream cones in the heat of the summer after a long day of swimming. No more fuzzy socks in the middle of winter and no more carrot noses or scarves for snowmen in need. No more gourmet restaurants with food that seems to explode in your mouth with flavors you’ve never experienced before. No more steak and and cheese burgers and fillet mignon and creme brulee, or bread and butter with the spaghetti on Sunday dinners. No more perfume or cologne, walking through a crowd of people and catching something spicy and intriguing, making you want more, but as you turn around, the scent  it is completely unrecognizable and you move on with you day, yet still always remembering that distinct smell. Wishing you could have known what cologne it was, and more importantly who was wearing it. No more questions and no more answers.

Or more accurately, questions that would still  dart through the air here and there, to fast for us to grasp within our hands and truly ponder. To quick, and fading away even faster. Too nimble for me to contemplate as I let them fly away like butterflies. No more butterflies.

No more of anything. But most importantly no more people. No more boys and no more girls. No more boys chasing girls and girls running from boys. No more boys going with girls and girls falling for boys. No more people falling for one another. No more freckles speckled across their face. No more batting your eyelashes at them from across the room. No more bangs hiding the eyes that you are so desperate to gaze into. No more eyes filled with oceans, and rain forests, and the fertile soil of the earth. No more smile lines, and dimples, and ears that stick out. No more button noses and soft lips. No more people  to surround you, and sweep you along into the waves, showing you the abundance of those around you, even as you begin to unravel, they’ll sweep you along.

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