Her/story...his/story

I remember being in the court house wedding room, holding his hand, him looking back at me...blue eyes. I could always tell when something meant anything to him, but this moment, he was feeling it for the promises we were making to one another. He was loving me and loving us and who were were meant to be together.....
             .....A picture, this picture. Means nothing to you, but it's a feeling to me. It is a moment in my life that capitalized on a time in my life, on the feeling of where I was, what I was going through and the pain and confusion I felt then. I remember looking down at my running shoes, I remember the rain drops on the pavement, and the lights from the passing cars along the beach boulevard and the flickering of the lights from the pier, behind me. I remember seeing a fire, and two lovers, old, holding hands, sitting in the dark, in their beach chairs. In love?  are we ever in love, truly? always? or are there moments that seem perfect to us, and at that moment, nowhere else we'd rather be with nobody else, could we hold hands with? I ran until I was out of breath, I ran until i felt the sting of life, take its toll on my lungs that were gasping for more air from this cruel world. It is a sad world, one where we hurt the ones we love and hold on past the point of no return. We pretend that there were moments so beautiful that they are worth the pain, and the fear. We say that the kiss on the bridge meant something. That when hands are grasping onto someone so tight, that they are saving us. That his eyes were bright because of me, that he looked at me as if I was the only girl in the world…because he was so in love…how awful I am to believe that it was real. How sad it makes me feel to know that I once thought those feelings, so true. If i could be bleeding on the beach, bleeding out our life, how could he surf the waves so effortlessly? Never looking on shore to where his love lay, dying inside, and showing it on the outside. lost in a haze of medication and anguish. The sun was so hot that day, but it didn't matter to me if my skin burnt to dust, I was dying inside, and that night, pieces of myself left with a small heart. Somehow I still lie there holding onto him, wanting his love. He lay asleep unaware or just didn't care, to know I was a shaking mess in the hands of a dirty world, in the bathroom of a cheap hotel, bare feet on a cold floor. Unaware of the damage about to begin….Never ends