The Loved and the Lost

Freckles sprinkle across my nose as I turn to you and I smile with red velvet lips, I remember. Where are you now? When I close my eyes I can still see your burning silhouette in the dining room, underneath the shimmering stars of my chandelier. And we are little girls again, grinning in sandboxes, your amber curls bouncing as you climb to the top of the slide and declare with flushed pride, "I am the queen!" I weave you a crown of flowers and whisper that there has never been a queen so beautiful - the same words I muttered at your wedding, in the back row. You swore I'd be your maid of honor, I remember. We were teenagers on a road trip to Arizona, wild with rebellion, collar bones peeking through our skin. But that was a long time ago, before the spider-veins ate my knuckles, before revolutions, before saltwater carved stone. I remember, and that is my curse. You kiss him, and marmalade melodies waft through the air, the first notes of a happy marriage. I fold my weathered hands and slip away, filled with the sting of a goodbye never said. And I know my heart may never stop breaking for those two little girls, curled under a flashlight whispering ghost stories to each other in the darkness.