Repose

I never imagined that I would hold you in my arms again, nor possess the strength to do so. Yet, here I was; empowered by your radiance and nostalgic beauty. You came from a time I had never wanted to forget, though somehow lost through the slings and arrows of socioeconomics.

I lifted you from your casket and pressed you tightly against my midsection, unsure of what to do for a moment in time. I simply stared down at you, admiring your glorious body and coloring. I ran my fingers over you, coaxing out melodies from times forgotten and greatly missed. My eyes welled and I had to stop - not from the pain my now callousless fingers felt, but from the heartache that I recognized in this moment for not insisting to keep you in my life.

I stroked you again, letting your voice sing a little louder this time - still as euphonious as always, regardless of how long I had left you silent. It warmed my core, and ceased the flowing of my tears. It was all so terrifying and wonderful.

My heart rate climbed as I allowed my lungs to fill with air, and soon, I found my voice synchronized with yours. I could barely make a sound, out of the fear I possessed, but you assured me to relax and embrace our harmony. I obeyed.

In these few short minutes we shared, I felt the life in me resurface, but as soon as I was forced to put you back to rest, the emptiness ensued, and I felt nothing. For those few minutes, you were my revival. How I yearn to hold you once more, to create, to inspire, to muse. In you alone do I find repose.