Your breathing is soft and sweet, muffled behind the blanket of your hand under the pillow and the warmth of my jacket. Your skin is pale and silky against the touch of my fingers. Your face is peaceful, content in an ever-loving way, in a calm that tangles itself with your sleeping mind.
I watch you in a quiet system of rises and falls. The dim light shines through the window shutters and makes lines across the floor in a slight alternating pattern. My eyes travel across the carpeted floor. I keep this image of you locked away in my mind. Deep in a hidden embrace mingling with my heart.
You shiver, but I stay locked in place. Frozen. I can’t take my eyes off of you. I find that the easiest thing to do is stare and amaze myself. Your skin is so pale that it reflects the warm light and your hair is spilling over the pillow like little waterfalls. Your arms are toned, light but strong. The muscles are outlined with thin sharp lines and shaded in by shadows etched along the curves.
You smile in a lazy sort of fashion and it makes my stomach ache for a moment. I twist my hands and a flash appears. The tilt of your head lessens as the bright light fades and your blue eyes pierce through mine. Light glances off the deep blue and twists with the whites of your eyes then fades to give a glazed look to those beautiful pools.
“Hey.” You mutter.
Your eyes are little mirrors reflecting to me the beauty that one person can hold so intensely to their heart, but that you dangle on the edge of caution. Your blue swirls distort the green of mine and blurs off the course to which I have tried to follow. I have but one wish and that is to capture your eyes in a frame so beautiful, yet so incompetent that the world would view them as belonging to a god.
You see, this thing is not associated with sadness. But rather smiles and sighs and soft words and the little things like that. It is associated with warmth and arms and calm and happiness and everything seemingly perfect in this dreary world. This thing has no name, yet compared to the most insignificant explanations. It is a lack of air and the ability to breathe.
It’s composed of the contrast from dark to light; it fades and flares and is the sweet dream and the hellish nightmare. It is everything you could ever want or need. It lingers on the air like a blown kiss and can pollute it with the most terrible of things. It glazes over the mind and takes control of the things placed in its way.
You have mastered this thing, claiming it in honor of all that you stand for. You breathe this thing into me and fill me with the amazing sense of weightlessness. You’re breaking me with it. Fighting against my eyes and yours with the same intent in mind.
Green and blue swirl and twist and spin and wage a silent war against the other. A pleasant war, nothing like the horrors of death and cold blood and murders, but a calm and composed war. It’s your favorite game to play; you enjoy the way I give up so easily. The way I can’t stop staring at you.
The light flashes and I have captured the face of an angel. Your lips are parted slightly and the pink of their slight curves is glossy in the light. Those enthralling blue eyes are closed and hidden from me to give the visage of sleeping. Your arm is curled under the pillow and your other arm is thrown over the comforter, searching for something to pull closer. My old tattered black jacked lay across your waist and your clothes are ruffled as though you rolled over. The creamy white skin of your arms shines along with the warm setting sun and you breathe in a calm manner. In and out, up and down. It bewitches me with the exact beauty of this picture.
It is the composition of that which is perfection and that which is destruction. You are breaking me in the most bittersweet of ways and I don’t care.
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