(no subject)

My fingers brush over rain wet stone of these ancient buildings. Memory wells up in me, overpowering,
overwhelming...

An almost full moon, walking these old paths, footsteps echoing in empty courtyards. Hand in hand, fingers twined, power flowing through both of us, between us. Gargoyles gaze down - sitting in a stone arch doorway, my head in your lap, fingers running through my hair. No rain, then. Just us, old powerful stone buildings and the moon.
You told me about writing something powerful, so powerful you destroyed it, and I admired you. You told me about your dreams and I smiled. You kissed me, and I cried, my tears wet on your cheek.

It's raining outside, and with each raindrop that night fades, no longer painfully poignant.
Only a memory, once again.