Cerulean Dream

Withered.

       Again, I was wounded. Not from the mountain, but of my own rage. My pain and stupidity leading me to do stupid things.
       She was gone, the woman who would and will always cultivate my heart. Away with a new life, heart tied to a new love. And here I was, still reminiscing of her fiery locks spread across my lap as we joked about sunburns and spoke of old love went wrong. I miss her, I missed her, I can't do anything to see her.
       I don't speak of her kindly, I broke my promise and I cannot return. She broke hers, as well.
       I once again had sliced open my leg. My leg, my elbow, my hand. I was lucky to be alive. It was a stupid thing, tempting to ride to the main road again. A moment of hesitation, a moment of regret and I was scattered unto the asphalt.
       I was bleeding all over, breathing heavily. Everything hurt. Everywhere hurt. I pulled myself out from under the bike— which, though light in actuality, felt rather behemoth in that moment— and pulled the bike and myself bake to safety directly preceding the appearance of yet another truck. Silver, if I may recall.
       Everything hurt, but i mounted my bike. My chest felt as if I had swallowed a hive of bees, yet I pounded my legs as hard against the pedals as I could. I passed my Grandmother's garden, passed her house and rode down a hill, a dip in the pavement. My vision became obscured for tears and sobs filled my throat as the furious, swarming hive tempted to escape through my mouth and buzz all around me. The tears fell hard, and I turned around at the house atop the hill in a quick glide back through the dip and down my driveway, long and winding before I reached the bottom myself and made a dash for the woods, abandoning my bike on the ground behind me. It hurt. It hurt.
       I dogged vines of thorns and small trees, hopped down the path of roots and washed away gravel to find myself at a creek. I had been here before, a place of sanctuary where only the animals would find me. Why was I here? Was it.. Was it because home didn't feel like home anymore? Was it because I wanted to be found? I wasn't so far from home. Was it.. why was it?
        I sat on a large slab of rock by the creek, trees towering over me as the sun began to recede in the distance. Dogs barked as I howled and cried, me tears falling and soaking only me. Only I had this burden. What even was my burden?
       I could remember that cerulean sky, but it seemed far off now, obscured by clouds and distant sunsets fading into a moonless night. I could remember the love I had, and only wish I hadn't been so quick to run. Withered dreams and passing glances, withered heart and failed chance. It was in the past.