When We Are

December 2, 2011
By Anonymous

I sat on the cold side cement brick glaring at my feeble attempt at the tree I so envy. It makes the sky all the more mystic and calling to me. "What's that?" A sweet voice from out of one of my happier dreams asks. Reactively, I remember my naked, bandaged wrist. I quickly and sleekly, I think, slip it inside my "normal", not so baggy anymore, sweatshirt arm and tuck it into my body. "I fell." I whisper with all the truth it secretly rings. "And still am," I want to add. I look up finally, more self conscious than ever, feeling so raw as I do by myself with the sky above me. His face gives the feeling so familiar, its like looking into the heart of the ocean, mimicking mine always. He smiles at me, always it touching his eyes when he does, at me. I try to return the warmth but it feels like my face might shatter, yet for him, it never felt more natural. He takes in my whole being, in one look. He sits, cross legged, in front of me, resting his own constant bag against his thigh. I start to suck my beautifully black book into my body, but he catches my hand lightly. I freeze. Human physical contact, alone, always burns the surface of my skin. But his, electrifies every pore, every time. I subconsciously pull away. He catches me with his other hand and puts the first on the black cover of my book I've overturned. "May I." He doesn't wait for my word, but slowly weighs my reaction. When I don't meet his real, terrifying eyes, he stops. He puts a hand under my chin. I can't. Not yet. He takes what I give, for the moment, ans slides my book onto his knee, turning it back over. I see my tree, differently now.I see everything differently when he's near me. It looks, strong. Thick, water-veined branches and perfectly dripping leaves. The sen and sky is seen in the misshapen pieces in between the spaces of leaves. Like the pieces of my life, yet this scene seems to be on purpose. Normal spaces and pieces. The tree weeps so beautifully. If I could, id spend a night under that tree. He traces the lines, gently, taking in every accidentally right move my graphite made. I take a deep breath, trying to summon my mask. Nothing. There's no hiding anything from him. "How do you do that?" He whispers, looking up finally catching an soulfully taking my eyes in. "Do?" Is all I can manage, while feeling someone, not just someone, taking in me. "See the way I see?" He looks at the actual tree behind me in 'Awwwee'. "I..." I don't know what to say. He always says what I want to. What I think. Every word, every way. Even when I don't know how to word, he says perfectly. Turning the pages back, he touches, other sketches. My cat, my best friend. The Eiffel Tower of my closest human friend's love. My horrible, plainly understood emotions, practically scrawled out in their words. His eyes furrow at those, seeing their obvious tear-scars reflecting the ones lined across my covered wrist. But maybe that's only noticeable to me... he shuts it suddenly and grabs hold of my attention deeper than any beautiful thing in this life. "I see you, you know. I see everything. Your timid frown and fake conversations. Your need for water more than air and sky more than solid ground. Your eyes, for obvious but always overlooked and sometimes never seen, beauty. Your eyes period. Everything. And I am going to spend my life showing you everything I see about you. And I know.... You. See. Me." Before he even spoke the third word, I'm crying. These tears, unlike my ritual ones, my heart heals instead of tears. He sits up on his knees, my book falling onto his bag. He finger tips touch mine, welcoming me home. He pushes up my sleeve, unwraps my bandage and begins to kiss my wrist for every red line there is and more. All I could do is feel. His lips seal, the reflected shreds in my heart. Nothings impossible. Reality flips with dream of all kinds. He gets up entirely, and brings me up with him. We leave our things we used to hold most dear and was our reasoning for being here. And I don't care. Don't care where he's lading me. Don't care what I'm leaving. As long as he's, or there, with me, forever.

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