Ringgren

I am at war with the breath, caught in my throat. Refusing to release me, from the painful realization. The war rages while I calm my heart, testing if I still manage to feel. The soft drum, instills a silence in the room. With controlled movement, he moves past me in the hall. I forget my purpose, because I am a stranger. I am at war, and the battlefield is here. The weapons are words, spoken in tempered anger. As the tears will themselves, out of my darkened eyes. I retreat with bowed head. I was...at war, now I've lost.

It becomes clear, that the light is my friend. Bringing with it memories of summers spent in shallow water. Sun engulfing my skin, heating it up. Freckles sprinkled across my features, tanned spots of summer. I revel in the water lapping at my feet, caressing my toes with cool waves of blue. The air is lighter than I remember, and the possibilities are endless. Birds in the distance, kids walking with dripping ice cream cones. I know that summer is fleeting, yet it seems never ending in this moment. The memories crashing into me, like the ocean used to.

There are moments, when your words are stolen from you. Times, where words fail to impact on the situation at hand. Instances where words, can be the only weapon available. Opportunities where words are the cure.