The Beauty's Perspective

Prologue

          I held the picture tightly in my hands, contemplating whether or not to tear it up or burn it. I couldn't take in the fact that the past seemed so perfect in my eyes. I knew better now. This temporary happiness was a lie.

          My mother sits in the center behind her birthday cake lit with fifty candles. My sister Michelle is on her left side. Her boyfriend of five years at the time, Ethan, stands behind her with his hand affectionately placed on her shoulder. She places her left hand on his, her engagement ring sparkling in the still photograph.  I'm on my mother's right side. Taylor, my first love of four years wraps his arms around me. We all smile and we all seem happy.

          I carefully tear the photograph in half, taking both Ethan and Taylor out of the picture and leaving my mom, Michelle, and I intact.

To Kiss To Love To Kill

The alcohol upon my lips,

a teasing promise for what I hope to forget.

You undress me with your eyes.

Wanting me fully exposed.

and with that I try to hide,

but it was I you chose. 

You brush my skin, with the want to feel within.

I shut my eyes tight, losing the last ray of light.

You grasp my hair,

and my heart you begin to tear.

My body begins to burn,

it's pain I quickly learn.

I bite my tongue,

tasting the blood.

Past becomes present, and images begin to flood.

Reckless. Helpless. Shameless.

I lay there dead but awake,

with my spirit you simply take.

Your hands wrapped around my throat,

losing air I begin to float.

Muffled sounds in my ear.

Too scared to show any fear.

I smile wide with a wicked grin,

dawning on me that it's about to begin.

Shards of glass begin to rain.

The darkness consumes us whole.

My skin, your teeth... insane.

No sight, no window, no soul.

My scream beckons you.

A ghost with a whisper to the wind.

A permanent purgatory.

Because I have sinned.

Your hands laced in mine,

with a cold knife on my neck.

Telling me sweetly

that it'll only hurt for a sec.

My eyes begin to glaze,

I refuse to cry at the moment.

I force myself into a daze.

To a time of contentment:

He holds me gently,

a soft kiss on my cheek.

My heart beat quickens,

my knees go weak.

A purple flower

he lays in my hand.

A blissful memory

with our feet tucked into the sand.

He looks into my eyes,

with a feeling of love;

like I was an answered prayer,

sent from above.

His arms hold me

into his chest,

like we are one,

and I better than the rest.

Yes, he chose me.

To kiss, to love, to kill.

And I am forever at his will.

He is all I see.

His sunset eyes and sunrise voice,

and now he makes his choice...

Presses the blade,

quick and cold.

This is the last time

he has to hold;

hold me alive

before my last breathe.

Loving you, even in death.

My struggle for

the last bit of air.

You don't hide your disgust,

nor do you care.

My heartbeat ceases to exist,

and I have become lifeless.

I open my eyes and see your name.

I trace it with my finger upon your grave.

My eyes begin to blur knowing that I cannot be saved.

a trail of wet fire blazes down my face.

I have no saving grace.

For I am dead among the living.,

and you have moved on taking all the winnings.

It is then I allow myself to cry.

Bracing myself on my way to die. 

Alcohol bittersweet on my lips.

Your hands hug her on her hips.

I walk out the door into the night,

deciding that I lost my will to fight.

A ghost wandering in the streets,

with not even one single heart beat.

And I see it in my minds eye,

you kiss her and feel like you can fly.

an old feeling you felt when I was alive.

But I've faded into the black with saying no goodbyes.

"Exist"

Forever I will be broken.

Never to be fixed.

The words I love you were spoken,

just a bit too quick. 

You see, it’s been a while

since I’ve heard those three words,

and I can feel myself shy away.

The truth is

I’m afraid of getting hurt,

even though I pretend to be okay.

Time and experience,

has changed me,

and I wonder if love exists.

then you came along,

and afraid of how I feel,

I begin to resist.

Because I’ve built up these walls,

to protect me from it all.

and If I tear them down,

surely I would fall. 

Back into a lapse of time,

when everything was pitch black.

and so a promise I made to myself,

was to never go back

However, I am too selfish

and I want you by my side.

Although I don’t want you to think,

that I’m just here along for the ride.

For my feelings are sincere,

with only good intentions.

My heart is beating loud,

And for you it beckons.

So I don’t want to let you go,

because you will surely be missed.

I just want you to take my hand in yours,

and tell me that love can exist.

"Blossom"

So unsure, so unclear.

All the things in my mind I fear.

Take a deep breath and let it out,

when all I want to do is cry, scream, and shout.

Only my own hands to hold,

as I shiver in the icy cold;

surrounded by a fog of confusion,

I question my sanity, was it all an allusion? 

My hair you wrap around your fingers 

as your last kiss upon me lingers..

It was all unintentional pain.

Unknowing that love is simply a game.

I bite my tongue,

knowing that it can’t be undone.

My mind slowly collapses,

as I fall into another relapse.

My body fails to keep me standing

as I picture you reprimanding,

my faults, cracks, and imperfections

I stumble into life’s intersections.

I try my best not to cry,

as my thoughts circle around why.

Unending questions, with no answers,

infecting me like an incurable cancer.

And slowly I will finally succumb,

Never with the chance to blossom.

"Music Heals"

I breathe you in,

you let me out.

All will fade;

good-bye to self doubt.

Your sweet voice,

in my ear,

lets me know 

that hope is near.

Tears will fall,

but they always dry.

The truth comes out.

No more lies.

"Sleep"

So afraid to sleep.

My nightmares are on repeat.

I fear I may never wake,

and my soul they will easily take.

A prisoner of my own mind,

A prisoner of my own design.

Losing all of my control,

As my skin is paralyzed with cold.

My voice is small

As I attempt to crawl,

To escape the green fire

burning the floor

By searching blindly

for a non-existent door.

I feel them watching me,

With their depthless eyes.

There is nothing I can do.

There is nowhere for me to hide.

Is my only option to succumb?

My eyes go weak and my body numb.

Completely lifeless.

I am my own creation.

I only blame myself,

For this dark imagination.

"Gone"

 I left you in the middle of the night

With tears running down my face

It would be our last night together,

but memories of you I wish never to replace.

The time we danced, and the time we kissed.

You knew from the beginning that I couldn’t resist.

And yet I walked away as you let me go.

and for my efforts I have nothing to show.

I know your decisions are never that easy.

And nothing you could do now would ever please me.

Because as distance begins to grow,

Feelings with time will eventually fade.

The past begins to feel like a dream,

Our future broken before it is ever made.

You’ll move on as I torment myself

with a million unending questions.

Even with all the love I have lost,

I have still yet to learn the life’s lessons.

For Me

I'm lost though I don't admit it.
In a beauty-less world.
I've gone astray without a map,
unprepared, caught up in a whirl.

A whirl of I hope to be adventures,
with numerous life lessons.
That I can pour it out with a pen,
filled with all my thoughts and confessions.

To find my own path,
my light in a darkened place.
To experience all there is to feel,
not having a moment to waste.

I want to fly as a bird,
and shine like the sky,
with streaks of colors,
going farther up than "high".

Until I touch a star,
and sprinkle its dust.
Make everything extraordinary;
I need to do this I must!

To feel as if I matter,
in life and in my heart,
if I am actually awake
making no finish to my start.

I wonder if I am seen,
through my invisible veil.
Of my concealed words,
that always seem to fail;

When I try to convey my thoughts,
into meanings that make sense,
but it never comes out clearly,
as if I'm scared and simply tense.

But bravery I will have,
and reach for my dreams.
Heal myself when hurt;
filling up the cracks and seams.

I want to be beautiful.
Like a freely dancing butterfly,
flirting with a field of flowers.
Never experiencing the urge to cry.

To have emptiness in my beliefs,
To have no grief or strife;
but that's only a fantasy,
that I won't find in life.

I need to break free,
of my enclosed glass box.
Getting away from time,
and the ticks of the clocks.

I'll run as far,
as my feet will take me.
Fall on my back,
and finally beauty I will see.

Beauty in my thoughts.
Beauty in my soul.
Beauty in the tears,
that I cannot control.

As wind comb my hair,
and light kisses my lips,
I'll know that if i am gone;
there is something I will miss.

The loveliness to feel,
The pleasure to smile.
The prettiness in things,
that make my life worthwhile.

Lost I may be,
Beauty lost from earth.
But I see the value,
of my own birth.

As I touch the hills,
and climb the mountains.
I'll stay here forever,
carved in stone as a fountain.

Pouring out my heart,
making my dreams come true.
Holding out my soul,
Just. For. You.

"I'll Think of You"

Do you remember me?
My face, smile, and hair?
Or did you just forget?
and simply didn't care?

Did I make a false impression?
or did I blend in with the nameless faces?
Do you remember anything?
maybe our memorable places?

Where we would sit and talk,
like time didn't exist?
When we opened our souls,
our thoughts no longer bundled in closed fists.

Where I would tell you secrets,
knowing you wouldn't laugh.
That if anything came my way,
you would stand on my behalf.

Friends I thought we were,
Friends I believe we still are.
No matter where we go,
nothing is too far.

I hope you call me first,
when you have good news.
I hope I am the one you need,
to help fade a fresh bruise.

If you're ever hurt that is,
I hope you never be in harm.
Never needing to feel pain,
no sense to be alarmed.

I want you to know,
you have a friend in me.
I'm the colors of your rainbow,
the arch of light you see.

I'll come from one end to the other,
and take your hand in mine.
Lead you to a better world,
and leave the hurtful one behind.

Never forget me,
even if I lose touch.
Sometimes I can be selfish,
but know I think of you very much.

Unconsciously in my dreams,
or when I'm singing in my car
Just know I am always with you,
following you like a bright beautiful star.

For Christine

Light of One Life

Footprints upon the sand,
mark the steps you’ve taken.
With your infinite heart,
those close to you awaken…
to the beauty of the world,
even if the skies are grey.
You are the light for hope,
To everyone everyday.
You may simply be one life,
But you shine on us all
Listening to our fears,
catching us when we fall.
As another year passes
And life continues on,
You will always be there,
From dusk until dawn.

Butterfly

            I don’t want to be here. I feel like the depressing blue wallpaper found in unused sitting rooms; observing everything but unable to participate in anything. Larissa, the girl beside me, gives me an encouraging smile that reaches her memorable bright-blue eyes. I know she wanted me to talk along with everyone else, but I didn’t feel up to performing tonight. I was told that she was my best friend, although I couldn’t recollect why she was--and after a certain amount of time, she would probably wonder too. Soon enough she would stop trying to help or fix me once her guilt subsided.

Nonetheless, I force a smile back, pretending I am okay. A few other girls surround us at our table, but I don’t bother remembering their names since they ignore me anyway. I tune out of their conversation and stare at everyone else enjoying their dinner in the dorm cafeteria. They all seem so at ease with themselves. Conversations fill the room but I keep silent as jealousy creeps into my heart. I want to scream for it to be over, but I keep my mouth shut.

From behind me a male voice whispers, “Guess who?,” quickly covering my eyes.

Because he would be the only one to do such a thing, I answer with feign enthusiasm, “Jason.” He uncovers my eyes and gives me a quick kiss on the cheek. I try my hardest not to cringe away from my boyfriend. All of the girls glare at me with envy but stare at him with wide eyes, batting their eyelashes.

“You betcha!” He grabs a chair from the table next to us and places it between Larissa and I to sit. “How are you feeling today?”

I stare at the untouched plate of spaghetti to hide my exasperation. I hate that question. I’m not sick and hate how everyone treats me like I am. I don’t have the flu or cold that simply goes away after a week. I didn’t know when this would end, and even if it did, I wouldn’t be the same person as before.

His emerald eyes meet mine and I can see the hope behind them, wishing that today would be the day where everything went back to normal.

He reaches for my hand tenderly, but it feels like letting a stranger touch me instead of the comfort I should feel from the boy who has loved me for the past three years. I know he wants the old me back and I wish I could give it to him, but it is out of my control. I pull my hand away from him, sensing his disappointment at my continual rejections of his affections.

My cell phone rings, giving me an escape route. “I need to take this,” I say to no one in particular. I turn to Jason to say good-bye, but he’s already up and walking away, probably frustrated.

“I’ll talk to him for you,” Larissa offers, getting up from the table before I can stop her.

My phone continues to cry for my attention and I see my mother’s face upon the screen.

“Hi Mom,” I answer, exiting the cafeteria into the autumn air. The sun has already set and a million stars twinkled signaling the approach of winter.

“Hi baby, are you coming home this weekend?” I can tell she’s worried and I imagine my dad right next to her trying to listen in.

“Yes, I need a break from this routine.” My voice shakes a little, but I pretend to cough to distract her from it.

She sighs. “I know it’s hard, but the doctor said the best thing you can do is keep living your life, and eventually you’ll get them back.”

“Or I will never get them back,” I reply finishing the doctor’s diagnosis. I pass by one of the windows from the dorm lounge and catch a glimpse of my reflection. The girl I don’t know stares back at me. Her grey eyes are tired and exhausted from crying last night, and her long blonde hair that used to shine has become dull from neglect and lack of care. “Everyone’s waiting for the day I get them back and I won’t.”

“Don’t say that,” she said with a sharp edge in her tone.

I try to bite my tongue, but I can’t help it. “And so are you and Dad,” I say bitterly grinding my teeth.

She doesn’t disagree so I end the call without saying good-bye.

The pressure from everyone’s expectations is slowly killing what is left of me. It’s been almost two months and ever since then, I have woken up every day completely lost, like a wanderer with a broken compass trying to find my way home.

My phone rings again, I shut it off, not wanting to hear any more assurances that things will somehow work out.

I look back at my reflection and wonder what she was like. Who was she? I wanted to hear it directly from her mouth, instead of stories about her from others. Pulling up my sleeve from my left arm, I carefully trace the quarter-sized purple butterfly tattoo upon my wrist with my index finger. It’s the only thing I like about her. I wish I knew when she had gotten it, what it stood for, and what compelled her to get it.

Trying not to dwell on it any longer, I head to the campus gardens, a place where I know no one would be, since it was dinner hour. The garden is the only place I could find peace, escaping the confusion I feel raging within.

The air is crisp and cold and overhead the bright stars shine in contrast to the dark sky. The rustle of fallen leaves in the silent breeze reaches my ears welcoming me to a safe haven. White flowers spring from the grass with intentions of reflecting the sky above my head. I start towards the white gazebo in the center seeking solitude, but coming closer I can make out an outline of someone already occupying it. Afraid that I am intruding, I turn to find somewhere else to go but a deep voice stops me.

“I promise I don’t bite,” he says jokingly. “Nor am I a monster or mythical creature.”

The absurd greeting makes me smile genuinely for the first time in what I can remember. Cautiously stepping forward into the darkness of the gazebo, I notice that the sliver of the crescent moon offers us no light, making it hard to distinguish any physical features of the other. Hands searching, my fingertips brush the smoothness of flat, sanded wood. I take a seat on the bench and from the sound of his measured breathing, am aware that he is only about a foot away.

“How do I know you’re human then?” I ask finding my voice, playing along. “I can barely see you.”

He makes a shuffling noise and I can hear the zipper of a bag being opened. After a few more minutes of what seems to be searching, a small flame sparks from a match and he lights a red pillar candle held in his other hand. The flickering flame dances between us, encompassing us in a soft glow.

The oddness of the situation prompts me to ask, “Do you normally carry candles?”

His messy brown hair falls a bit over his hazel eyes, and he smiles at me with perfectly straight teeth, “No, not usually.” He seems to be around my age, give or take a year. He cups the candle into his hands and sniffs. He offers it to me so I lean in and do the same, distinguishing traces of cinnamon and something floral.

“I made it. In a crafts class,” he explains, placing it on the bench between us. “My turn to ask a question. What is your name?”

He looks at me expectantly and I hesitate, not liking my name and wondering if I ever did before the incident. I try to conjure up a false name, but decide not to use it.

“Did you forget your name?” he says jokingly.

“Names are unnecessary, don’t you think?” I say. I run my index finger through the orange part of the flame, feeling the delight of the warm tingle.

“In this situation or in general?”

I concentrate on the flame as it flickers from the restlessness of the wind. “Both. It’s just an empty label for an identity.”

“Well, how do you identify yourself?” He challenges.

I stop and think for a minute, not sure how to answer. Pulling up my sleeve, I expose the purple butterfly. In the dancing flame it seems to flutter, changing its color from yellow, red, then back to purple.

His eyes roam over it with genuine interest. “What does it mean?”

His question is simple and expected, but hearing it said out loud pierces my heart. It was the question that I wanted but could not answer. The question I ask myself every night before I go to bed. The question I ask everyone who say they know me, only to find out that no one even knew I had it.

The guilt of forgetting everything washes over me. Priceless memories lost as I think of my family, Jason, and Larissa all waiting for me to return. I feel dead inside, returning as a ghost; haunting them of what used to be, of who I used to be. Everyone would have been better off if I died instead of me trying to play a role I no longer fit. I hate seeing the disappointment in their eyes. I hate hurting them.

My head begins to throb and my body becomes warm, although the cold night air is pressing on me from all directions. My eyes begin to water, and I can feel the hot tears wanting to spill over the rim. My throat constricts and my heart tightens, making it hard for me to breathe. Don’t cry right now. Don’t cry right now, I repeat in my head like a mantra but it has the opposite affect, intensifying my emotions.

Extremely embarrassed by my loss of composure, I try to gather my strength to leave to find a private place to let it out, but he reaches around the candle and softly lays his hand over mine, stopping me. I can feel its warmth and instead of pulling away, I accept the comfort because he’s not hoping that I remember him like everyone else did when I first opened my eyes.

His eyes are apologetic. So I take a deep breath to steady myself and explain, “I have amnesia. Retrograde amnesia to be more specific, which means I don’t remember anything before my accident two months ago.” I quickly wipe away a few tears that escape with my untouched hand.

I turn and look out into the dark void where the gardens are hidden. I didn’t want to see the look of sympathy I normally receive when I explain my situation, especially not from him.

“Do you mind if I ask how it happened?” His voice is honest, caring, unwavering.

For some odd reason, I want to tell him everything to get it off my chest. “I don’t know. During the summer break, my friend Larissa and I went back to our old high school to help decorate for a welcome back rally. Her little sister, who was the student body president, needed the extra help setting up. It was the day before the quarter began, so we thought we could just do it quickly and drive back to school during the night since our hometown is only two hours away. I was hanging posters up using a ladder. I don’t know how, but I must have lost my footing and fell.”

“No one steadied the ladder for you?”

“Larissa was supposed to, but she was grabbing something for me to hang up. She was the only one in the room at the time.” I try to imagine it in my mind, but I can’t make the image form. “She’s been feeling guilty ever since, trying to help me adjust back to school,” I add, trying to assure myself that her account was the truth.  

“So what did you forget? Just memories or how to function?”

“Memories are completely gone. I forgot how to drive, so I’ll have to relearn during the winter break. My language skills seem fine, I can still read and write, which is all my major requires of me.” My words come out easily and I wonder why I can be so comfortable with a complete stranger. Maybe because I know I may never see him again. This campus is too large for us to cross paths again.

He shakes his head, “I can’t imagine going through that.”

We’re both silent for a moment and I can faintly hear the sound of crickets chirping.

“I want to remember. Maybe then everyone would be happy,” I say more to myself then to him.

“They are happy. You’re still alive. That’s more than others can say.” He looks down at our interlaced hands and quickly takes his back. Jason crosses my mind and another wave of guilt comes over me.

I contemplate leaving to head back to my dorm, but his eyes that were warmly lit by the candle just moments before turn solemn and he closes his eyes. “There are some things I wish I could forget.”

His change of reaction compels me to stay. Assuming he’s referring to a bad memory I say, “I’m sorry,” but realizing it’s the first time that I’ve said it to someone else since the accident, I wish I could have taken it back instantly, knowing that they are empty words.

He struggles for a moment as if deciding what to say. “My brother died.” He swallows hard. “Today would have been his eighteenth birthday,” he says, voice trembling slightly. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this. I normally keep to myself.” He opens his eyes and stares at me for a moment as if trying to decipher a puzzle before continuing on, “It was three years ago, the summer before I started college. I took him to a stupid party on the roof of some abandon building back home. I was stupid.” He looks into the distance and his voice becomes quiet.  “I was smashed, we both were. Had a few drinks too many. It was really crowded and the music was loud, I couldn’t hear what he was saying.”

He takes a moment to compose himself, “We started pushing and shoving each other. Just messing around. I didn’t know how close to the edge we were.” He stands up and slowly begins pacing in the small space. “I didn’t know how hard I was shoving. I pushed him. He stumbled. He couldn’t catch his balance. Next thing I know I’m running. Scared shitless, not comprehending what happened, but knowing it was unforgiveable.”

He sits back down in defeat and stutters, “I pushed my own brother off a three-story building.”

I can hardly move.

He puts his head into his hands. “I wish it never happened. I wish I could just forget it.” He lifts his head and I can see the regret, agony, and guilt etched into his face. “It was an accident.” He says, almost pleading.

My throat is dry and my words come out hoarse, “I don’t know what to say.” I want to reach out to him, but I’m afraid to. “I’m so sorry,” I say, hoping the words actually mean something this time around.

“I don’t know why I’m dumping this on you. Sorry, I should just leave.” He stands up.

“I know why.” My voice stops him. “You just want someone to listen.”

He sits back down and leans back against the gazebo. “Yeah, I guess so.” He takes a deep breath and asks, “What were you like before?”

I shake my head not wanting to answer.

Seeing my reluctance, he clears his throat. “I’m fine, really. I rather hear about you, then be left with my thoughts.” He does his best to erase his break in composure. Slightly humiliated, he runs his hand through his messy hair and sits up straighter.

I hesitate for a moment, but his eyes urge me on. “Well, it depends. Everyone had different opinions of me, but they were all vague. My parents said I was driven, always and only focused on school with high ambitions to be a lawyer. Larissa said that I didn’t care about school or anything, too carefree and reckless.” These descriptions contradicted, which I didn’t like; they weren’t the same person.

 “The closest people in your life can’t define you. They can’t tell you what your secrets are, your insecurities, or the things that run across your mind in the middle of the night when you can’t sleep,” he tells me which makes me wonder what his thoughts had been earlier tonight when he was sitting all alone. Did he come here thinking about his brother? What could have been? Wondering if he really knew his brother, now that he was gone?

 I think about her and the image of her room fills my mind. It was neat with everything in place and not even the slightest bit personalized. “Looking at her things, she seems so plain. No journals, notes, or clues but what’s on my wrist. She’s a blank canvas to me.”

“Why don’t you paint yourself a picture?”

I give him a confused look.

“Take your accident as a blessing. You get a second shot. You can create the identity you want. Pick your own name. Unlike the rest of us, you don’t have the past to hold you back.”

I give his advice some thought. Would it be better to start over? Be a brand new person instead of the person everyone wants me to be, who I used to be? Would it be better waking up and not having to dread every day of forced smiles? Would I stop crying myself to sleep? Is it possible that I could finally be at ease, like everyone else in the dorm cafeteria tonight?

I think of my parents and wonder if they would still love me if I became someone different than the little girl that they raised. Could Larissa and I really become friends again, even if I forgot all of the promises and secrets we shared, or would her guilt and my past not allow us to be? And what about Jason? I loved him before, but I don’t think I love him now.

And if I did try to be me, whoever that is, and my memories came back--who would I be then? Would I regret the changes I made or was this what she wanted to do all along? Would I just be hurting them all more than I am now; dismissing the past like it didn’t matter?

I trace the butterfly again, hoping it can answer my questions.

“Your family and friends will be happy if you are happy with yourself. Completely cliché but nonetheless the truth.” His voice is sincere, making me want to believe in him.

Had I been going about this the wrong way? I woke up and took in everything everyone told me. Not questioning it, just believing it, and trying to be what they said, so I wouldn’t disappoint the people who loved me now; despite the fact that I was a stranger in a familiar body. But who am I besides a stranger? A stranger that’s alive, at least.

Create my own identity, is that what I need to do? Personalize her, or I mean my, neat and empty room. Find friends to eat dinner with who don’t ignore me. Embrace kisses from someone I care about instead of cringing away. Decide for myself if I am driven or careless. And maybe pass by my reflection and see me instead of someone I don’t know… Is that how it should be? I think of his brother, someone I never knew and would never get to. This is my second chance.

A slight breeze runs through the gazebo and through my hair, blowing it over my face. The dead and dull yellow strands tickle me, reminding me of her. All of the stories I’ve been told; all of her pictures. Things that are no longer mine. I take a hair tie from my pocket and gather my hair, making a low ponytail beneath the nape of my neck. “Do you have scissors?”

He looks at me curiously. “You’re lucky I had my crafts class today, because normally I wouldn’t.” He shuffles his bag around and after finding them passes it to me.

I take a deep breath with scissors in hand and carefully reach behind me to cut off the ponytail. After three snips it comes off.

“This is who you want to be?” he asks, surprised by my boldness.

I run my fingers through my hair, noting the lightness to it now; finally free of her and realizing how fortunate I am. “I’m not sure yet. I guess it’s just the first brush stroke on my canvas.”

He nods and stares at the flame, lost in thought.

“I know I can’t remember my past, but you can forgive yourself for yours.” I offer, thinking of his brother.

He nods. “I miss him. I wish I could tell him how sorry I am. I wish he could have been alive for his birthday. I would trade my life for his in a heartbeat if I could.”

“I’m sure he knows that,” I say trying to console him.

 He gently reaches for my wrist displaying the butterfly into the candlelight once again. “So, can you tell me your name now?”

My grey eyes lock onto his, now prepared to answer.