judysaidso

I Miss You
Mauricio Flores
Lyrics by Nate Barcalow of Finch

“Cant you see, that I wanna be, there with open arms? Its empty tonight, and I’m all alone; get me through this one. Do you notice, I’m gone? Where do you run to?... So far away. I want you to know that I miss you. I want you to know that I miss you so…”
Lights blurred, melted and streaked all around her glance as we drove past other cars and stop lights. Her hand was the wings of a thousand doves; the clouds of a million dreams. The warmth of her grasp was summer bidding goodnight in its last moments of light. Together our hands fell into place upon each other.
She wore my jacket the way spring wears jacarandas and morning dew. She had become cold earlier at the park so I gave her my jacket. There she held my arm as we walked along the edge of the rocks just above the water. We talked and did what butterflies do in their flight.
We had settled underneath a tree where she asked me about the buoy and what it was called. She shivered and twitched a little in the enveloping breeze. I cupped her face in my hands and kissed her.
Our kiss seemed to have invited the night. Stars appeared like bubbles rising from deep in the water. I realized her eyes brought me all the candles glow and fireflies. I swallowed my “I love you.”
We headed back to the car and I opened her door. I held her one last time, with my hand around her waist. Our lips met slowly and softly like the waves in a low tide. I led her gently into the seat of the car, my hand was like a paint brush stroking softly along her back.
I drove with just one hand on the wheel, my other was connected to her. The gentle silence between us was accompanied by the music in the car. We took the long way home.
Our silence broke tenderly like daylight when I began to sing. Secretly, I sang for her. She followed me into the words of the song and blended her voice with mine.
“Once again your eyes make it hard say goodbye, so I’ll just keep driving. Where do you wanna go? It doesn’t really matter as long as you are here with me… With me... With me!... Whoa!, There’s something in the air tonight. Something that makes me feel alive and I say whoa! What were the words that you said to me that made me feel so special now?”
Traffic was slow but I didn’t care. Every stop was a pocket of time that I cherished. “Once again your eyes make it hard to ask you why? So I sit here knuckles tight, hands against the wheel and your head against the glass and you mean so much to me. To me… To me…”
“Stay with me. Cigarettes in open air hand in hand, and I say stay with me. Cause every stop that I see is better than the last, so stay with me.” Of all my greatest and worst memories. Of all my loves and sorrows. Of all the moments gone and present, nothing in the mortal or eternal realm will ever compare to kissing her at the stop light of Third and Beyer.
We drove through curvy streets and steep hills. As we neared her house I felt time draining me of life, knowing the day would soon end. I drifted in every moment of her voice singing.
When we arrived at her house I turned off my lights to keep our presence unknown. She took off my jacket and her seat belt. After she gathered her things she reached in one last time with eyes closed and her mouth partially open for one last kiss.
On the drive home I found that she had answered all my questions with her presence. She had fulfilled my longing. She had swirled all the truths and dreams. I realized that she was my first love. Likewise, she was my first true heartbreak.

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I am not a poet.

Chris Miller

Hi judysaidso,

I found this to be more of a poem than a short story.

I liked your use of similes in the early part.

I especially liked this one.

Plot and character development-wise, nothing really happens, and there is little symbolism I can see. I liked the ending, for its contrast. Kind of a reality check to an otherwise moony melodrama.

Although the narrator is a male, the prose to my ear is totally feminine. Perhaps I am just a victim of stereotypes though.

Clean grammar, spotted only one typo.

It's


Very pretty piece.

Chris

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the fairwriting blogs

Barcelona Review story: http://www.barcelonareview.com/64/e_cm.html

ToucanMan

"Stay With Me" is a beautiful story.

(We talked and did what butterflies do in their flight.)
That's one nice sentence.
But, if I'm not mistaken, what butterflies do in their flight is make love. So, where does the heartbreak come in? Did she go somewhere that night? If she did, can you tell us where she went and why?

Perhaps I don't understand the story.
If I knew what happens in the song, would I understand the story better?

I tell you, I think that you can be really good. If you can "hook" the reader with such a passive story, I can't imagine what would happen if you had put some action into it.

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"A toucan can't keep toucankind ticking, but two can."

judysaidso

I didnt go with the conventional method of a short story here. It needed to be different. I can see how it would come off more as a poem, I was leaning towards something like that.

I'm a dude, and nobody ever believes that I write this stuff. But I like that they dont expect it from a guy.

__________________
I am not a poet.