Yesterdays’ gone and today is here, whilst tomorrow waits for the desperate souls solicitously tapping on their subconscious to unleash fragments of memories once lost. Such he is; basking on the fluorescent light in his apartment, making him appear more jaded than he actually is. It’s the closest thing he has to sunlight. It’s been days, being stuck on bed with barely changed sheets, Stuffy and moist, body cold, Skin pale. Tubes inhaled deeply into his lungs. Life support machine couldn’t support him anymore. He couldn’t afford it either. So he received a letter of dismal from the Hospital, to get his things in order and wait for death. A tear watered his jaws when a broad painful smile conjured on his wrinkled cheeks. Taping to his memory box, amused on how long it has been living in solitude. As he begged for some forgotten memories to reshuffle, He tried hard not to baffle his mind.

His stomach growls, his soul scolds at it, his face replies in a lurid grin, an evident of looming hunger. He ought to stand, prepare something maybe, but he has been way too much strong enough. How many times has he tumbled and fell on the kitchen floor? How many burns does he have on his hands just because his body involuntary shook in spasms like frail twig whenever he stood up? And how many times did he almost drown in the apartment because he forgot to turn off the tap? Life hasn’t been fair to him. Maybe he was wrong to accuse life of all his transgressions. Maybe death played a part in it. it suffocated life from all of his friends and family he cared the most about. It plucked air from their lungs.

Carefully, he removes the tube from his lungs, his body jerked forth and back in weak spasms. He coughs, blood spurts on to the white sheets. A duo of Life and death seemed to be brazed on the bed he laid. Stretches his hand beneath the bed as if looking for something he once lost. He pulls out an old dusty notebook full of yellow pages. Jaded book. Faded and oxidized. A collection of poetry hits him with a strange feeling of nostalgia. He wrote whilst still in campus. A picture falls from the pages. An old picture concealed for quite sometimes. Barely remembers when. The painful smile shaded on his face sublimes to give way to the hidden youthful smile he bore. In his hands, he holds the picture that delivers him to a world far much better than the present. His face unfolds to a bright light, for a moment the pain deserts him. He sees flickers of hope dancing its way before his eyes. If only he could grasp them.

The sun was brightly lit. Wind as calm as his heart would be. Tucked in his tuxedo, brown leather belt, dark skin and averagely built. Laptop bag on his back, he holds a phone in his hand. Reading a text message that made him jump. “Can’t wait to see you!” the world was his. He could smell the color of rainbows from the air he breathed. It was a cool afternoon. He just got back to campus and the one person that he needed to see was eagerly waiting to set eyes on him. So he made his way to her apartment. Her name Sophia. A petite lady. A woman of a kind. She was amazed how things took turns. How possibly could she feel closest to this dude. It couldn’t be love for she loved another, yet her desires to stare at him, hold him, speak with him for hours and clutch on to him were edacious. He knew it too. “It was special” they summarized. As he made his way past the clock to beat the 2 o’clock suns’ heat, he took out his phone and typed the text, “I miss you”, then he hit the send button.

Her apartment was on the third floor. She came to meet him on the ground floor but they bumped into each other on the balcony. All seemed like a planned event. They hazily fell into one embrace as they coiled into a nonchalance. His dark dreamy eyes stared at her. Her sharp pellucid eyes gazed onto him. She felt as if his chest was pulling her close. He could sense the weakening in her voice as she giggled. She murmured something but he couldn’t hear. Pulled her to the wall. His left hand rested on the side of the walls. The right hand solemnly held her tight. She loved it. Her leg found its way between his legs. They held their breath. Their eyes, seem paused momentarily, there was an unspoken language they spoke so eloquently. He pulled her close. She gave in. her body slipped and merged completely with his. They fell into a single solemn kiss that made the walls whisper in silence, the wind hesitated its mongering, silence stood mouth agape with censured ears as words eloped her lips, “how can I be so in love with you?” he stroke her forehead with a lash of a kiss. Whence he spoke, “I wish you were mine!”

That was 10 years ago. When words haloed healing hearts, whereas tentative kisses were deeply planted on broken souls. When the world lost meaning, they would braced themselves in their own world. Not until three days later when he realized that it was the last first kiss they ever shared.
As memories whirled on his mind, he felt his face wet. Tears, gently stroke his brazen cheeks. On to his lips he felt the salty taste of his last teardrops. He raised his hands to wipe the fallen tears but he realized he was still holding on to the picture. Looked at it once more and felt at home. Her with him. He tried to battle the forlorn feeling of smiling yet he was sobbing one last time. His youthful smile averted him. The world drastically changed. He laid still on his bed. The pain he felt earlier, his lungs failing him, the blood spurt on the bed sheets, looming hunger, all that he felt before with tubes laid down beside him repatriated onto him. His body shook tremendously. He was finding difficulty in breathing, reached for tubes but they fell down and he couldn’t reach them. One, two, three…. He took his breaths in loud countable spasms till he laid still. Life deserted the bed. It was brazed by just death and memories.