Eternal morning

"It's another end of the beginning, and the beginning of an end," she said.  

I sat beside her by the cliff saying nothing as the violet hour had just started.

We watched the skies turned from yellow, to orange, to an almost haunting shade of blue as she finishes yet another bottle of beer.  

"Sad, isn't it?' she started to say as she lighted a cigarette, "How it never ends. It's a constant cycle of saying goodbye and then starting all over again". 

I sighed as I drank the last remnants of the forgotten drink in my hand. I inhaled the scent of her freshly-blown cigarette, and felt it fill my lungs. I sneak a look at her. Her eyes, red from all the crying were staring intent at the now dark skies. She locked a stray hair behind her ears and for a moment, I see her as a child again. I could see a strong-willed child, eyes filled with passion, and full of promise. I remember our childhood as clearly as if it was just yesterday. We used to run over the meadows without worries as she laughs her chime-like laugh. She never laughs that way anymore.  Carefree. Innocent. Beautiful.

I reached out to take her hand, and I traced the scars on her wrists. Her battle scars. I see her flinch as I touch her most recent carving. It's still fresh compared to all the others.  She had 26 all in all, I counted; accumulated throughout the years. Tampering her once flawless pale-white skin.

She blows another puff of smoke in my direction before throwing her cigarette away and I willingly inhaled again. We've been doing this for years. Sharing as much poison as the other would take. I stayed silent as I let go of her hand to open another drink. She doesn't mind my silence, as much as I don't mind her smoking.  

"Thank you," she said.

"For what?" I mumbled, taking a swag from my drink. 

"For being my eternal morning," she whispered as she lights another cigarette again. 

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

More of a story than poem. A very good story. I liked how you described place, features and thoughts.
"Thank you," she said.
"For what?" I mumbled, taking a swag from my drink.
"For being my eternal morning," she whispered as she lights another cigarette again. "
The above lines are beautiful. Good friends hold close in good and bad days. Thank you for sharing the amazing tale. I liked it.
Coyote

[Carissa Marie]

Original plan was a prose poem but somewhere along the way, it didn't happen. haha. Thanks for reading. :) Glad you liked it.

[Coyote Poetry]

I did like it and you are welcome.

[alifeacoustic]

A painful thing to watch a friend hurt. To see them with an unbearable pain and remember those innocent and carefree days together and how it all changes. True friendship is being there when needed, not judging and listening, like her eternal morning is.
Great write. Thank you for sharing.

[Carissa Marie]

True friends are the best! Thanks for reading. :)

[alifeacoustic]

No problem.