Our Story

I just can't believe that you are gone. The distance between us has fluctuated often throughout our story, so how can I believe that "Hesper Forever" has already started? It just seems bizarre, you are still here. Among the wrestling children and during games that cause commotion, you are chanting loudly with your hands and sophistication that only arose as a coach.

I am so angry, why did you have to let me go only to chase me afterwords? I suppose it is the perfect replica of our story. But I loved it; I loved you, I still do. How do I yelp with anger or burn my cheeks with the drops you create even after you're gone? These emotions will stay within the walls of my chest, I hope to God that I will survive the pressure.

Kirk, you were simply who I had hoped for after years of sorrow and disappointment upon my midnight pillow. You picked me up when I least expected it, and your presence alone captured my devoted attention of true love. Though you broke my heart, and continue to crack it piece by piece, I surrender to a love that is worth all odds. I promise to not personify you as you are gone, you would only think that I were wrong in that case. I will only speak of you as I did when you were far or near, either way, I always hoped to feel your warmth make the miles; I always hoped for your heart to skip the rocks and make it to my basket. If only you could trust I would carry the fragile beat underneath your chest. Too many scars were my enemy; they were our enemy, our brick wall against love's possibilities. "There was this woman, there was this man. There was this moment they had a chance," I speak of your last words and cringe to a thought that sparked from a mind that I thought was withered and gone. I shatter and break to think your heart found me in the story's end. But what would I have done? What could I have done? How could I keep you in my arms? I tried once. I tried a hundred times. I failed.

You will always have my heart, you captured it when you drove the miles and lifted me towards the ceiling. You held it when I felt alone beside the lake and upon my pillow you closed the gap. You surrounded it with your excuse to wear heels and to find romance in every place possible. You drew it near you when you finally said "I love you Kristin, I always will." Now it remains in the hands of another; it remains underground. And now the story has closed.

PS Do you remember the song "The Night Will go as Follows."
-----I remember that blue light. Your red skin. The ice cubes. That fan in the window. That night of my keyboard and our first. That yellow bike. Your spontaneous trips. The love you finally found, the love I finally found.