During the most silent hours, I have memories of embracing the ever engulfing stars with arms wide open.
It is as if the cosmos are reaching down to kiss me on these rosy cheeks. My head tilting back, straining my neck, hair hanging back, exposing my shoulders. On these evenings, the night seems to stretch on forever. I feel the cool evening air caress against my skin. I feel the frosty tingle from the entangling strands of hair whipping around my face. I feel my toes dancing on the edge of the icy cold ledge, a hundred feet up, on the verge of dropping.520Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡRwpP6XT9L0
I remember staring down from ten stories up. Feeling my breath choking up out of me, wondering how it would feel to fly. I spread my arms out, reaching out to touch the stardust. Gambling on my next steps. Everything starts with one delicate step; one single, simple step, forward. Then dancing faster, I follow the half feet wide ledge, leaning out into the air. A single hand grasping the cold metal bar of the railing. Let go, and down I would go. . . ending with just one single, simple misstep forward.
I often look up into the sky, thinking the sky is limitless, but I am not. Shackled to the world, I wear the responsibility of society, humanity even. The weight of the world sits on my fragile shoulders, still exposed to the torture and trauma of our current decade. Too overwhelming like the stars, yet too dark to manifest in the night, either one leaves me blind. Acceptance and denial apprehensive to the sight.
Through the whispering wind pulling me into a escapeless trans, I hear him approaching. I could hear the sticky sweet venom spouting with every breath, telling me to fight the seduction of the city lights. Convincing me not to dance along with the melodies playing on the floors below. . .The unknowing apologies, I do not understand, pouring out of his mouth, another lie to add to my collection. False promises parts his lips, I do not need them, so I do not hear them either.
Fear and sorrow having fled my soul a long time back, leaves me feeling angerless, empty inside. A bubbling heat creeps up my chest, into my throat, and escapes out of me in a fleeting laughter, absorbed into the universe. I watch his frantic desperation disperse into catatonic confusion. Words cease to exist in the moment of time, easily too short for me, maybe too long for him.
Then just the silence of the night surrounds us both. I stare at him through my distant tunneling vision, floating further away. A smile creeps upon my face in the embrace of his ignorance. The sad satisfaction of the disappointment crossing his face. Clouded expressions locked away as I watch him leave as another approaches the open door, spilling light onto the dark shadows of the concrete floor.
I watch her emotionlessly stare him in the eye as he brushes abruptly past her in a contained agitated frenzy.
Afterwards she closes her eyes and when they open again, they are retrained on me, piercing through me. Those amber eyes tug into my core, pulling out the anxiety and fear long gone by. A cloaking numbness appears beyond the void, even that seems to be tossed aside
I want to speak out to her, but I have no idea what to say. Thoughts, words, jumbled, fluttering out of my own lips in a purposeless manner, other than to simply fill the silence hanging in the night air.
She came closer, so much closer. I realize as my tunneling vision dispersed rapidly by her approach, she is already occupying the space besides me. I feel my head tilting, trying to make sense of those amber eyes as they turn to stare off into the city lights, no longer trained on me.
I fight the fog, distancing me from her beautiful face. I lean in closer, stepping right in front of her, from the other side of the rail, cutting off her distant gaze. My eyes are ever distracted by the memories of her bright red glossed lips. Leaning in even closer, only centimeter between our lips, I ask her when this cold heartache would end.
She fades in and out of focus.
Moments of unwelcomed silence pass at a crippling pace. I wonder if she heard my question.
Looking up, I find her dazzling amber eyes staring into mine. She makes no attempt at answer my question, only staring into my reflective gaze. I wonder what she sees?
I hope she sees the beauty standing right in front of me, wrapped up in her little red dress and white fur coat. When I look down at her like this, it seems as if she is engulfed by the distant galaxy with her blue and black ombre hair wisping around her, I want to stare into those beautifully aged eyes and never let go of this time suspended between me and her.520Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡdrfKKVFrAY
But the more I stare into those eyes, the more clear the world becomes. The fog fades to a dark unsettling reality. Her eyes are not aged by the years she’s lived, trust me, she was only 27. No, her eyes are aged by the wisdom she has gained from the pain of loss, far more than her 27 years. Her eyes are aged by the years she has not lived and the few years I have.
I wonder if it was worth it, the minuscule escape compared to her over gloried success. The weight is reignited and she cracks like glass under the pressure. I just want to hold onto her delicate disposition and prevent her from crumbling & caving in on herself. I want to desperately glue her back together before she breaks back apart again, crumbling into sparkling glass dust.520Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡTbhgk0lNeD
I lift my hand to her stoic face, caressing her hair and cheek. Tracing every feature of her transparent face, stopping when I get to her perfectly red glossed lips.
She does not react, doesn’t even blink. No movement even as I lean in ever so closer needing to taste that perfect mouth of hers, but I am stop short. Frozen by the sudden realization that tonight she couldn’t possibly be here.
No, having lost her three years back. This stranger before me is just a figment of my imagination. Pieced back together by the ever departing memories of her in my past. A part of my completion for a good ten years, then a part of my destruction in another three. But no matter how the time seems to slip through the hourglass, the details of her figure never seems to leave me any less breathless as it did the first.
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