Not forgotten

We had a mock marriage in my backyard.
Not even knowing the significance,
we kissed;
short and unsure,
as only 7 year-olds could manage.

No witnesses but ourselves,
we were bound forever.

We wrote our names
on the four of hearts;
changing it to say 4ever.

We pinned it to the tree we wed under
where it stayed forever as a symbol.




Around the time I started to understand
our bond and my feelings,
I also got a better understanding
of what her disease meant for the length of her life.



We still had enough time
to discover the meaning of love
together.

Though they told me such a thing wasn't possible
for someone my age.

I was "immature,
unreasonable."
I took the word of my beating heart
over their rolling eyes.




The doctors said she was lucky
to have made it to 15.
Lucky wasn't a word I could
bring myself to consider.

Her lips didn't even move
in our final kiss.
I tasted her last breath
and for the first time
her eyes weren't lit up,
the way they only did for me.
They were empty,
shunning me by staring at the
hospital room ceiling
when I was
right
there
beside
her.


She was my best friend.
My first
and only true love.






Time fast became an enemy.

Life flashed past my eyes like a slide show.
Moment to moment, none seemed significant enough
to bother paying attention to.

I moved out,
got a desk job
complete with my own 6 by 6 cubicle.
I had a few girlfriends
if you could call them that,
they all left when they realized
I'd never be ready to say those
three little words to them.

Those words aren't said, they are given.
Mine were given to her
and hers given to me.
I would not trade hers away for any other.

Like my parents said.
I must have been immature,
unreasonable.




Memories grew distant.
Attachments lost meaning.
I retired,
aged,
inherited my parents' house.

Death began to hold more meaning than life.

I was staring out my window when I realized
I had not forgotten.

A playing card was on the tree in the back,
Torn and washed clean by the years.
I reclaimed it in my shaky, aged hands
and reprinted everything it once held.




They found my body at her grave
my hand a few inches above where I buried the card.





Maybe I was immature,
Maybe I was unreasonable;

But I believed love
to be never forgotten.