We promised we wouldn’t look back.
In my skin-tight desire, I wrap us ‘round in my supple arms. Our respiration circulating from one to another; and in the midst of the dance, we go so high you’d think we would die. So proud in our height, so consumed in the intoxicating perfume of our whispers that we forget about the ground.
But the wishes that let us fly, now let us fall; wondering why the closest way to fly is to fall. And in the flight, we expose only what we want to show, while the fall unravels us. So much so we become willingly tangled, clutching at one another, now undisguised. As if we are unclad of “I”, shedding the artificial husk to become “me”. So much now like shell-less fingers; new air upon new skins.
Slightly soiled, my voice bobs in the room, bouncing back to my listening ears. So alive, and so full, I feel perched up; almost as if I can touch airplanes. I speak in continuous moderation to avoid the habit of thought. I thought I wouldn’t slip and be stung, but temperance was harder to achieve. Of course, in the alien nature of it, and being so unaccustomed and like a newborn, it would be harder to actualize.
I get stuck in my monologue, questioning the February heaviness. Somewhere in between breaths, I become hazy of my direction. Sleep is a habit I cannot deny, ignore, nor can I escape, so I let it slowly free me from conversation.
In March morning, alice blue sits by my window, greeting me with a melancholy wave. I blink a reply, wondering if the sky is now a mirror. In my seclusion, with cold’s body laying by my side, I can’t help but let the thoughts roam. Wondering why there should have ever been numbers higher than one, seeing as how they only make things worse. With one there is only little disappoint, and zero, even less.
For some reason my realizations do not seek the need to travel far, for my body is bristled to life. My heart still racing, my veins still progressing. The rest of my limbs are flickering before my eyes, touching the objects of the room. I cannot keep still, cannot tranquilize any part of me.
Emotions are not rational within me. Though I now walk with eyes, rather than with glances, something is missing. And of course, the “missing” particle had slipped out some time ago when I was not conscious, and I feel stung. But at least I can taste the bitter after affects rather than nothing at all.
Pretty soon the alarm covers up the small whimpers I utter from parted lungs; it clouds over the stumbles of my feet as I part the window curtains, and it drowns my senses till I part my mind.
In the silence that comes soon, after the alarm has turned itself off, I stare at the vacant bed. Small, idiotic words about the voyage I’d taken on it come to me. Of childish dreams and metaphors, sailing the crinkled clouds. Of young and foolish promises we somehow had kept. Until part of me is swept under the bed, like the dust bunnies who still wait for more to join. There is fuse of happiness smiling at me from a little black alarm clock as it prepares to sound off again like a trumpet call.
I’m learning that some things do come back.
(So... sorry for any punctuation, grammatical, spelling errors... I've read through this, I don't know how many times, but you know you never really catch anything with old eyes. So new eyes may see what I have not. I just kind of... wrote this on a whim. It was inspired by various things. Mainly song lyrics that I've listened to recently, hehe. And then a reading I just did for English tonight partially went into it. Hope you like it... It's... random. Not as good as I wanted, but oh well, not as bad as I was expecting when I started. Seeing as how I didn't really know exactly where I was headed to when I began. Anyway, lol, please comment and critique! Your comments are much appreciated!!!)
