5/21/11

I Wish This Were a Film
By Brittany Cravens


there are memories i have of us.

i remember when i was fourteen,
and i met you.
the way your voice was warm and playful.
i remember you hair.
it was curly,
and i liked the way you seemed to let it do what it wanted.
i wanted to know you.

i remember your gray and white knit hat;
you wore it the next time i saw you.
it'd been two years,
and i hadn't even thought about you.
i remember you called me awkward,
and the way your teeth were a little crooked when you smiled,
and i loved your smile.

i still do, very much.

i remember our first date,
the rain fell hard to splash across the ground in deep puddles or flow into the river nearby.
you were picking me up from work,
but you couldn't find it because my directions were so terrible.

so:
i walked to you.

you were parked at the convenience store.
i saw you,
and i didn't want it to be casual;
i wanted to know you.

we sat in the park by the river.
the clouds wept above us,
the streams flowed under us,
and your lips brushed my cheek.

i danced through the drops and you watched me
because you couldn't understand,
and i could see it in your eyes.

i remember the deep puddle we stood in,
and the gray sky above us.
i grabbed your shirt,
and we kissed there,
in the rain.

i'm forgetting, now..
and i wish i weren't.


- - -
My name is Brittany Cravens and I want to understand beauty. I write until my thoughts make sense, or until my eyes drip with exhaustion, and my hand cramps from excessive use. I write because I cannot fly.