walks

i came home from you having walked through rain-soaked parks of early spring.
in my arms i carried the last moments of you and i, wrapping them around my body so that when i ran out the door and took three years of us with me, i would still have something to hold onto.
i knew when i left, when i kissed your lips and said i love you, it was for the last time and that i would never come back to the days that we shared. there's too much pain there, too many memories trapped in photographs that i can never let go.
now, i come home from having fondly recalled the mornings i would look at you silently sleeping, dreaming of how much i would love you when you opened your eyes, and the nights i would hold you dearly, when everything seemed so clear and full of wonder.