I died once

I missed it, the taste of cantaloupe and coffee in the morning.

The feel of whiskey as it slid past my tongue and burned my chest.

How the fog hovered over the bay like a grey cashmere blanket and the flickering feel of mist in tiny droplets on my skin.

The tingling sensation of skin and the shivers I would get from the slightest touch to the nape of my neck.

The deep breath after a long walk through the streets of the city, and the warm feel of oxygen that surged through my blood as I sat down to rest on a park bench.

All of those brilliant sensations of being alive, they were so tangible in the darkness. Like your favorite sad song coming to an end and the realization that your shirt is drenched with tears.

All the spectrums of light faded into memory as I flew away from the weight of my body. Surrounded only by the knowledge of rising upward towards something that seemed so familiar, so eternal. I no longer knew my name or the names of those I loved, only their faces, and the way they made me feel, and how devoutly and deeply I loved them.

Just a knowing and the weightless expanse of forgetting.

As it goes, I am here. Brought back to life by science and mankind’s fear of death. Wounded in the back of an ambulance, burdened by loud sirens and medics frantically screaming in my ear. That moment stands still in my memory. The look on their faces as I opened my eyes.

I smiled at them, my existence now a reflection of their accomplishments. “We thought we lost you!”

They did, they just didn’t understand, few people do.

I’ve been wandering the streets ever since.

Swallowing the world whole with my desire for all of the things I know I will miss.