06-15-2020, 09:09 AM
Each time the image of him flickers it feels like teeth catching in her chest, like her heart is wilting and loneliness is creeping back into these brand new gaps inside her. She knows he could be gone from her in an instant, and she doesn’t know enough about the gift to be able to easily find him again. She knows the note of his song, the song of his strand, but then most songs still sound so similar to her dreaming ears. Maybe his is quieter than most though, comprised of a weariness she is so far unfamiliar with in her short, strange existence.
She is glad when he tells her he isn’t afraid of her, and a gentle kind of heat rises to her face, pulled there by the tide of her smile when she beams back at him. But the part that does bother him is close to the things that scares her too, and so the smile slips from her mouth as though it is suddenly too heavy for such delicate lips. “Me neither.” She whispers, and she’s trying so hard not to let her eyes look as sad as her heart feels in that moment, tries hard not to let the fissures in her chest reflect like valleys of bottomless dark in the navy of her eyes. “I wouldn’t know how to bring you back, or where to find you again.” It never occurs to her that this admission of impermanence might shift the nature of the mood they share now.
She does not know permanence, but perhaps if she did she would understand why he might not try to befriend someone so fleeting. There is no pain in a goodbye when there is no love lost.
Her eyes are riveted to him now as he stretches and she can feel her own body sigh at knowing how good it feels to do so, better when there is warm sun to bask beneath. So she builds him a tiny sun, small and wholly his, gentle and golden to warm his body. But she is so ill prepared for the moment he pulls himself up and his face finds hers in this hazy in between, this dawn and dusk, a heliotrope drawn to her sun. “Hello.” She whispers, blinks, as though they haven’t already had this conversation. But when his golden eyes open and capture her in their jeweled depths, it certainly feels brand new again.
In his eyes she relearns the color gold, discovers shades and shadows she never knew existed. “If I had lived I would be like you, I think. Except a girl, of course.” She clarifies quickly, navy eyes wide at the clumsiness of her thoughts. She blinks, disappears for a second into the dark behind her eyelids, where his beautiful golden eyes are still branded into the sightless black. Then she opens them again, feeling heartbroken over the loss of him even though it hasn’t happened yet. It will. “But because I didn’t, I can be anything now. Would you like to see?”
She is glad when he tells her he isn’t afraid of her, and a gentle kind of heat rises to her face, pulled there by the tide of her smile when she beams back at him. But the part that does bother him is close to the things that scares her too, and so the smile slips from her mouth as though it is suddenly too heavy for such delicate lips. “Me neither.” She whispers, and she’s trying so hard not to let her eyes look as sad as her heart feels in that moment, tries hard not to let the fissures in her chest reflect like valleys of bottomless dark in the navy of her eyes. “I wouldn’t know how to bring you back, or where to find you again.” It never occurs to her that this admission of impermanence might shift the nature of the mood they share now.
She does not know permanence, but perhaps if she did she would understand why he might not try to befriend someone so fleeting. There is no pain in a goodbye when there is no love lost.
Her eyes are riveted to him now as he stretches and she can feel her own body sigh at knowing how good it feels to do so, better when there is warm sun to bask beneath. So she builds him a tiny sun, small and wholly his, gentle and golden to warm his body. But she is so ill prepared for the moment he pulls himself up and his face finds hers in this hazy in between, this dawn and dusk, a heliotrope drawn to her sun. “Hello.” She whispers, blinks, as though they haven’t already had this conversation. But when his golden eyes open and capture her in their jeweled depths, it certainly feels brand new again.
In his eyes she relearns the color gold, discovers shades and shadows she never knew existed. “If I had lived I would be like you, I think. Except a girl, of course.” She clarifies quickly, navy eyes wide at the clumsiness of her thoughts. She blinks, disappears for a second into the dark behind her eyelids, where his beautiful golden eyes are still branded into the sightless black. Then she opens them again, feeling heartbroken over the loss of him even though it hasn’t happened yet. It will. “But because I didn’t, I can be anything now. Would you like to see?”
iridian
we are infinite as the universe we hold inside