It was of my eighteenth year of
my greatest happiness and my greatest loss.
Her name was Alexandra and I loved her dearly.
Her smiles enchanted me. Her kisses bewitched me.
From the way her tanned-white flesh smelled of apple to the
way she held me in her arms, she was everything to me.
On my eighteenth year, we danced. She was more beautiful than anything that night. Our bodies close, our souls unbroken.
The song, already forgotten, played a melancholy
tune. She looked into my eyes and smiled.
I returned the smiled and kissed her sweet lips.
Her smiled slowly turned to sorrow and I quickly wondered why.
“I have to tell you something,” she said sadly.
She then bowed her head down. I picked up
her head with my hand and gave her a
face of uncertainty. Her eyes began to drown in
tears I quickly wiped away.
“I’m going away,” she began to cry.
I wiped the remainer of her tears and said,
“Why?”
She looked to me with forlorned eyes.
“I’m dying….”
My heart suddenly drowned into a pool of agony.
She hugged me and began to cry again. I tried
to say something but I was already crying too.
I looked to her behind her wet eyes and kissed her.
A happy song began to play yet we continued to look at
each other and cry. We then held each other and danced slow.
Our warm bodies warming both heart and soul.
We held each other so tight that night as we danced our last dance.
Now today, memories of her have marked my soul
with a blanket of happiness and a envelope of
misery. Of the woman, the angel, I lost the
night of my eighteenth year.