Mallorca

You drank the whole bottle of wine.
The one you intended to leave for your host.
Gazing to the cascading lights, will you remember this, you say.

She sleeps softly in the room as the door to the terrace wavers in the wind.
Will you remember this view, this feeling?

“I never wish to leave this place,” she said.
But it is something you could never promise.
You’d sooner swear she’d be safe from death, though you ultimately share her sentiment.

“Let’s spend eternity here. Free from life’s design.”

Instead, you ask if you should play along. “Yes,” you say.
Here. Here we will remain for all time.

You contract your eyes to see the town fade.
The streets are gone and only the lights and walls remain.
Dim your eyes some more, and the lights continue their journey down the hills.
Sheltered and encased in darkness, they shine on.

Will I remember this view? This feeling?

Dim your eyes some more.
Close them to the beauty of the town.
And darkness is all you see.

I would rather promise her life everlasting than to tell her that tomorrow we leave.

Will you remember this view?

No.

But as the glowing stars in their retinal cage disappear, the feeling will remain.
And the fultility of upholding my promise to remain for always
and the undying love I swear to you in its place.

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