Another year, another bottle
It's that day again.
Hearts and Hooves Day.
This is our twenty-third one together, and our eighth one apart.
I'm sitting here again, like always. I wouldn't miss it for the world.
Yes, I know you always hated these kinds of things, all this mushy stuff... but you always grin and bear it. Just for me.
I tear my gaze from the smooth stone in front of me and admire the sunset for a short moment. Its beauty still pales in comparison to the image of your everlasting grace and allure.
I miss you, I whisper. My eyes trail back to the hard, bleak wall of grey, jutting from the ground separating us.
HERE LIES
-̶̷-̶̷-̶̷-̶̷-̶̷-̶̷-̶̷-̶̷-̶̷-̶̷-̶̷-̶̷-̶̷
I cringe as the memory of my first visit flashes before my eyes; I had lapsed into denial, and I desperately attempted to destroy the painful truth of your name engraved into the stone... Yet I merely succeeded in erasing you, concealing your memorial from the public eye. I sigh now, considering the foolish but not entirely unjustified actions of my former self. The consequences were purely moral; I have neither the funds to repair the inscription nor the will to rebuild the hollow reminder of your absence. In a selfish sort of way, I suppose I'm glad I did it. I don't think anypony else knows whom this grave belongs to now, and this fact grants us some small sense of exclusivity.
I lean in and press my forehead firmly against the gravestone, letting its coolness seep into my body, and shudder. Never has the lack of your warm presence beside me been so glaringly apparent, and it sends an icy stab of pain through my chest as your phantom wings envelop me in a cozy embrace...
I sigh, pulling slowly away from the fading memory, my eyes opening blearily. I would give anything to know that feeling again... I imagine myself wrapped in the wings of a stranger, yet it doesn't quite feel right. The alien figure in my mind slowly begins to change, its appearance shifting to match your own features, until you once again dominate my thoughts.
No, I correct myself, I would give anything to feel that with *you** again.*
My attention finally comes back to the real world, and I take notice of the few items resting at my hooves.
A heart-shaped box I weakly slide forward until it very nearly touches your headstone, trying my best to smile. I can sense your smile in return, and I envision you eagerly digging into the small box of chocolates. "I got your... your f-favorite," I choke out. Clearing my throat, my voice becomes a tad more stable. "And I made sure there were no nuts in these ones." I know how you always hated nuts, how you would cringe in that adorable little way upon sinking your teeth into something unexpectedly tainted with them.
I bend down and gingerly pick up a small bouquet of flowers in my teeth, laying it on top of the box. "Tulips," I sniffle. The only type of flower you ever really liked, because they were too beautiful and utterly disgusting to eat.
I bow my head, releasing a heavy sigh. I really, really miss you.
After a long moment, I raise my head to the sky, its pinks and oranges quickly fading to purple. I finally reveal the last item I've brought with me: a small (and expensive, might I add) bottle of wine: 28-year-old sherry, imported from Prance. You would have appreciated it.
I hastily open the bottle, holding it close to my chest and losing myself in the pleasant aroma. I focus my fuzzy gaze on your headstone, my mind conjuring up a nearly-transparent vision of you curled against it, watching me contently with those shining eyes of yours. I tip the bottle forward, its contents spilling onto the parched earth beneath me. I blink, and you are no longer there, but I hold the bottle steady until the slow trickle ceases. I can tell that you enjoy it.
I look at the remains of the bottle; over half is left for me. Normally I'd try to keep it even, but I'm feeling especially somber tonight. I'm sure you won't mind.
I throw back my head and empty the rest of the bottle down my throat in mere seconds. I never was one for savoring a good drink, and you never hesitated to scold me for it. A small grin grows on my muzzle, marred only by the hopeless longing in my eyes. The world begins to blur, and I immediately wipe them. You shouldn't have to see me like this... not today.
I settle down on the grass, avoiding the wine-stained patch, and tuck my hooves under my chest. As I stare through your gravestone for a long while, I can hear nothing but your voice. It is one of the few things about you that will never change, no matter how long we are apart. I reach out with a shaking hoof and lightly touch the smooth rock, so alike to the familiar silky coat I can still feel tickling my nose.
"I won't forget you," I assure you. I say those same words every year, and every year their meaning grows stronger. It becomes increasingly difficult to keep my mental archives organized and accurate when memories of you are popping into the forefront of my attention at random, and I fear I have lost too many memories to count. But I'll find a way to keep you with me. I promise.
"I won't forget you."
I stare at your marble headstone a few minutes longer, letting the last of this year's tears fall before wiping my face. It is getting late. As I rise to my hooves, I blink back another wave of mist, my reddened eyes glistening. No. No more. I squeeze my eyes shut and take a deep breath, exhaling for a long time before a quiet, defeated whimper finally escapes me.
"Goodbye."
I turn away from you, turn against the invisible ropes holding me in place, and walk away with a heavy heart. A calm breeze floats past me, brushing the moisture from my eyes and caressing me gently. It whispers faintly in my ear.
Until next year, my love.
