I stand at the outskirts of his mind looking in. I am like a hungry
orphan gazing greedily at the cakes and cookies decorating the window of
a bakery. I so desperately want in, wishing to break down the walls and
smash the barriers with my bare fists if necessary. Impatiently, I
continue to stand at the outskirts.
He knows me. Knows me better than I probably know myself, seeing what I can't fathom and understanding what I can't see. He is quiet, silently watching me through the windows that separate us. He wants to open the doors to let me in, but is unsure how to begin. I do not know how to find the key that I seem to need, the one that leads to his heart.
I sit at the cafe, drinking iced coffee and painting my heart in colors that no longer exist in the human world. He sits across from me, sipping his drink and pondering my paintings, my thoughts. He reaches for my hand, a simple enough gesture, one that I will soon forget. For a moment we hold hands and the world seems so perfect.
We toss and turn, swaying like twin palm trees in the face of a hurricane. He reaches for me and I for him, the walls separate us. I curse our fate, clinging to what I want to believe is him, knowing that all I hold is ash. We will meet again, in secret, the walls always separating except when we are in bed. It has always been this way, why should it change?
He caresses me until I burn. I kiss his neck and his chest, I taste his tongue and touch his cheek. We are on fire, we are alive. Walls and kingdoms can fall all around us, we are lost in this dream. A dream that began as a painting of my heart, art that began with a thought as I stood along the outskirts of his mind begging to be let in.
He knows me. Knows me better than I probably know myself, seeing what I can't fathom and understanding what I can't see. He is quiet, silently watching me through the windows that separate us. He wants to open the doors to let me in, but is unsure how to begin. I do not know how to find the key that I seem to need, the one that leads to his heart.
I sit at the cafe, drinking iced coffee and painting my heart in colors that no longer exist in the human world. He sits across from me, sipping his drink and pondering my paintings, my thoughts. He reaches for my hand, a simple enough gesture, one that I will soon forget. For a moment we hold hands and the world seems so perfect.
We toss and turn, swaying like twin palm trees in the face of a hurricane. He reaches for me and I for him, the walls separate us. I curse our fate, clinging to what I want to believe is him, knowing that all I hold is ash. We will meet again, in secret, the walls always separating except when we are in bed. It has always been this way, why should it change?
He caresses me until I burn. I kiss his neck and his chest, I taste his tongue and touch his cheek. We are on fire, we are alive. Walls and kingdoms can fall all around us, we are lost in this dream. A dream that began as a painting of my heart, art that began with a thought as I stood along the outskirts of his mind begging to be let in.
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