Lost Words by Courtney Sowder


The caress of your hand upon my spine is breathtaking. The wind rushes past as you carry me away. We travel together to distant lands and adventure. Our romance is one that is eternal. Weightless, you take me; puffs of air brush my face as you slowly breathe in and out. You have been good to me. Taking the time to understand my lines and always excited to see me again. We have had a short relationship, but we already know the facets of one another’s mind. As you look into my heart, I walk naked through the tangled webs of your dreams and deepest desires. Sometimes when I open up anew to you, a shocking new discovery or a revelation of some tragic history will tighten your grip. I relish in it. I know you will never let me go—unlike the one before.
The one I knew before was angry and distant. He struggled to understand my whims. It hurt me. It hurt me so much; the pain seared through as he rubbed his cigarette butt on me. Was that my true value? He claimed that I was unbelievable—but really, it was he. His hard stares and rough hands, throwing me about, when I hit the ground it would knock me silly. If he apologized, it was never for the right thing. When he decided to donate me, in the beginning I was afraid, then it grew into a strange high–freedom. That anvil chained to my existence, now gone, lets me rest deeply.
After the first one let me go, I sat still, untouched, and slightly broken for what seemed like ages. I would sit in my head, mulling over the things I might have done right or wrong. I wanted love and gained hate. I longed for purity and only have a ravished heart. I wished I could cry or run away from myself—but alas, it seems to me that the only thing you can run from are the frayed edges of sanity. I had blurry visions of a future when the touch of a human being wouldn’t send me into convulsions of dismay and fear. A longing of knowing and being known without the feelings of shame dragging me to the ice cold ocean floor like the carcasses of sea life, to be eaten by the bottom dwellers.
Joy was found the day you discovered me. Your mouth wrinkled as the edges reached your ears. “At last,” you whispered. As you rubbed the dust off my leather cover and felt my smooth, gold tinted edges, I felt all weariness and despair lift and float away with the dust particles. The fears I had before melted into the dew of spring; I was fresh, new, and alive. Unblinkingly, you skimmed through every line inside of me. It was then I felt you knew me before I was ever written.