Mayumi

I recently engaged in a series of hypothetical questions with someone in between bites of some of the best dishes I have ever consumed, all enhanced by amazing company. Some questions were trivial, while others forced me to choose between letting down walls and revealing myself or redirecting the focus to the distracting way in which my armor gleams in the moonlight. There are as many, if not more, benefits to floating through this world like the balloon you lost hold of that strained to reach the sun as there are to the balloon tied down by feelings and strings. 

I constructed a followup hypothetical question, but rather than asking I let it rest on the tip of my tongue... savoring it's flavor, curiosity growing which each passing thought of the potential aftertaste. 

"If you could relive any moment in time from your past, which moment would you choose?"

I never asked the question, it seemed unfair to request an answer when I wasn't ready to share mine. That being said, everything feels safer and further removed when you're behind a computer screen. When your eyes are strained and your fingers are resting on asdf jkl;, when the city is asleep and everything stops spinning in dizzying pirouettes... you feel empowered. 

I can envision the moment so clearly in my mind's eye and hope my loose command of the English language can do it justice. 

I don't remember the day or the date, 
now wishing somehow I would have known
the importance of capturing that moment in time.
I stumbled into those church pews between
philosophy and math and awkward encounters
where across the room an ethereal spirit
sat on a smooth, ebony piano bench.

She loved to sing and when she closed her eyes, 
when her fingers floated across the keys, 
when she put her head back ever so slightly
exposing and elongating the curve of her neck,
and shared not the notes from our courses
but the more tender notes from her heart
it was as if the heavens allowed mere mortals 
a glimpse into something profound and pure.

It was uncomfortable and unbearable to be
in the presence of such beauty, such grace. 
The magic was followed by that shy smile,
by that look seeking validation and truth, 
by an introversion that only drew you in further,
inciting an intense desire to protect someone 
so special from the terrifying demons that 
knocked, beckoned so persistently at her door. 

She radiated warmth, empathy, and passion
and yet... in that viewing she was frozen, 
An angel trapped within a hardened shell.
Buried six feet under an ocean of salty tears,
I can still hear the way she said my name
and on the days when I can quiet my mind
I can still hear her song in the midnight breeze.