Flash Fiction July – Outline of You

I drew an outline of your face today – I remember it so well.

The slope of your forehead.

The shape of your nose.

The curve of your lips.

The size of your chin.

It was all there. An outline waiting for its features.

But when I drew your eyes, the shape was wrong.

The expressions was bare.

Where was your spark?

Where was that fire?

I set my pen down.

When did it leave?

That spark.

That fire.

That zest for life that we shared.

I thought it would last forever.

I thought it was a flame that would never die.

It could never die.

As long as I was I and you were you and we were us.

But where is it now?

Where does such fire go when one ceases to be?

Does it fade into the sunset sky?

Does it exist on another plane of existence?

Somewhere deep in another dimension?

Or buried inside a slumbering volcano?

Can it be renewed?

Can it burn inside someone else?

Can I find it again?

Can you forgive me if I do?


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s