Words Drowned By Fireworks

The summer sky is calm, clear, and bright as you and I lay on the hillside looking up. The warm night air soothes our skin as we lay together, silent but for the gentle intake and exhale of our breath. There is so much I want to say, but this silence is too perfect, too serene to end. Moments pass.

A star shoots across the sky, a brilliant trail of white light illuminated against the darkness. Your head nudges against my chest as you let out a heavy sigh.

“I don’t want this to end,” you say softly.

“Me either,” I reply quietly, “Me either…” I playfully blow a stand of your hair out of my face. We are silent for a long time. “But it has to end, doesn’t it?” I ask finally, reluctantly, knowing the answer already.

“Yes. Yes, it does,” you say, sadly. You roll onto your stomach to look up at me. My hand reaches up and brushes a lock of hair out of your face. You smile at me, and I smile back. A gentle kiss.

Across the dark sky, shafts and streaks of brilliant light shoot into the air. They crack and explode, sending down sparks of vibrant color. We watch them for a time explode in the sky: green, purple, yellow, red, pink, white.

My eyes find yours. Breathlessly, I say, “I love you.”

But you cannot hear me.

You are gone, back into my dreams.