I’ll Love You Forever By Mariah Wilson

Truman marched up the hill toward her. He kept his eyes cast downward; this would be easier if he didn’t have to look at her. He clutched a bouquet of long-stemmed red roses in his hand. A thorn stabbed him in the palm, but still he held tight. It was a small price to pay for the pain he was about to cause.

He walked past and stood with his back facing her. He couldn’t look at her today, not this time. He just didn’t have the stomach for it. He swallowed the lump of fear that had built up at the base of his throat.

“I have something to tell you, and I need you to hear all of it, Penelope.” He cleared his throat and continued. “I can’t keep doing this. I love you. I will always love you, Penny. You’re still the best thing that ever happened to me.” He choked back a sob as his heart cracked and splintered into a thousand shards of broken glass.

He looked up at the sky, as if it held some sort of answer, some sort of way to make this easier. “I remember when we were on that boat, that stupid little row-boat. It was dark, except for the moonlight glimmering on the water. You were so beautiful. You made me promise that night, that if I tipped the boat, I had to love you forever.” As Truman started to laugh, a tear slipped down his cheek. “You looked like a drowned rat. Your hair hung in your face, and you crossed your arms to cover your chest. I always swore I didn’t do that on purpose, but I’m sorry, darling. I lied. I tipped the boat. I wanted to see you dripping wet. It didn’t matter that I had to make that promise to you. I’d already promised it to myself, the moment I first laid eyes on you.”

He stopped for a moment and looked at the flowers. They seemed cheap in the face of memories so vibrant and rich with emotion. “Penny, darling, forgive me. Her name is Shania.” He smiled in spite of himself. Even in a horrible moment like this, the very thought of Shania was a beacon in the darkest night. “She’s smart, probably too smart for me, and she’s graceful. Oh, you should see the way she dances. Her feet are like feathers dancing on rose petals.” Truman cleared his throat. “Sorry, I guess you don’t want to hear that.”

Truman turned around. “I’m so sorry, my sweet Penny, but it’s time for me to go. I’ve held on long enough.”

Truman’s voice broke under the weight of his anguish. “I love you Penny. I always will.”

Truman placed the flowers gently on the grass below the headstone. “Goodbye, darling. I’ll love you forever.”

© 2014 Mariah E. Wilson

Mariah E. Wilson is a writer from the central interior of beautiful British Columbia. Her poetry has appeared in The Loch Raven Review, The Corner Club Press, Every Day Poets and The Kitchen Poet.