We must never take ‘us’ for granted.
“If You Were the Only Girl (In the World),” written by Nat D. Ayer with lyrics by Clifford Grey, published in 1916.
the way the light splays across their faces, makes it look like they are smiling at each other…sigh….
mary&matthew || it made me think of you… by me
Oh lights go down
In the moment we’re lost and found
I just wanna be by your side
If these wings could fly
Oh damn these walls
In the moment we’re ten feet tall
And how you told me after it all
We’d remember tonight
For the rest of our lives
- Shall I remind you of some of the choicest remarks you made about me when I arrived here? Because they live in my memory as fresh as the day they were spoken.
- Oh, Matthew, what am I always telling you? You must pay no attention to the things I say.
And it fades away, all of it, the elegant hall, the muffled squeaks of the wooden floor under their feet, the music playing from the gramophone… it all vanishes around the boundaries of their consciousness.
They only feel each other, they only need each other (have always only needed each other), and the slow caress of his fingers, as he guides hers on his chest and lets them slide through his own, and the slight tightening of his hand on her back, as she comes just a little closer, leans just a little more towards him.
Their lips barely move, but they press urgently against the other’s mouth, relishing the contact, committing it to memory, one last time, one sweet last time, and it tastes like goodbye, and I wish I could turn back time, and I’m sorry.
I love you echoes desperately in her mind, I’ve always loved you his screams, but they’re too lost to talk, lost in each other, on what’s happening in this precious moment, on what will happen tomorrow, and in a few days, in all the months after these, that they will live apart, for the rest of their lives.
It makes them shake, it leaves them breathless, and this could have been their life, this could’ve been their dance, and it’s only a stolen moment instead, the fragment of a dream lost long time ago in the depth of their stubborn characters, in the way they always seem to understand and misunderstand each other. And they want to cry, and they want to scream, but they’re saying each other goodbye instead, in a kiss stolen from an impossible dream.
Every dream must come to an end, though, and this does too.
It’s not the bothering sound of an alarm clock to take it away, to make it slip like sand through their fingers (still holding, still caressing on his chest, on her back).
It’s a small, lovely, innocent voice.
…and what about you?
are you happy?