I’m on Wilken’s street now. Never thought I’d go there again-never intended too, even now, but sometimes your feet take you where they will, no matter what your heart screams….I guess I had to come here eventually, though. More memories to preserve, more things to keep fixed in my head, no matter how much it hurts.

She lived here, her and her roommate, before we got married. This is where I picked her up, and took her home, and kissed her for the first time.

The door looks older now, the building unkempt, a for sale sign on the door. The paint is peeling, and the grass is dead…The roommate’s just as dead as my wife, though not from the sea, and the building shows it. There’s no life there now, but I can still imagine it, staring into the walls. I can remember when the door shined, and the walls were whitewashed. When the grass was green, and the sun shined down upon us…

I can remember that first kiss, her lips soft against my own, mouth slightly open as if in shock. I can remember the chemistry, and the love, how I wanted to just kiss her for all eternity, until the breath left my lungs and my body rotted from starvation, never letting go of the one I loved.

I remember how the sun shone, and the sprinklers turned on-but they didn’t hit us, cascading over our heads instead to form a rainbow. I remember it, and I wish for it, and I know that it is gone…Her lips are dead and cold, being eaten by bacteria and fishes. Her breath is gone from her lungs, and her body rotted, if not from hunger, and none of its from kissing, but all of its from me…I will never forgive myself for it, even though everyone living has, and the dead most likely as well. I will never stop imagining her lips., and her beauty, and remembering that it Is me who caused it all.

I will remember for eternity, and hate myself for every moment of it, no matter what the others say, because I know the truth that they do not: there is no true forgiveness for the greatest crime of all.