My Memory

My memory is a dream blown off by a puff of air that breezed in with the wind. Time, like a wind, gushes past me, leaving soft, tired sighs on my face and lips. I blink, and I rub my eyes. And the wind, its gone. They smart, my eyes, they smart, because there's dust in them. So I go teary eyed, and the huge drops of water just roll down the valleys of my cheeks.

My memory makes me look to the big blue sky. I see images. Of us, running through the white sandy beaches. Long long ago when Redang was the island of dreams. We would sit down in the darkness of the night, lit only by the violet glimmer of the stars, and we would look into each others' eyes, seeking truth, and truth decided all then.

My memory is when I don't know what love is, but I just close my eyes and pretend I know it. WhenI would cross my arms across my chest and sulk in faked anger, and accuse him of not loving... when me myself, I didn't even know the meaning of the word 'love'. The truth of love, has now begun and ended in the betrayal of my memory.

My memory is beautiful. And sad. It makes me cry. My memory. Because it is only that, a memory.

Come back, my memory. I love you.
  ¶ 12:31