oh, when my lady comes...
"Don't be sad."
I looked sideways into that face, ever smiling without anything other than certainty and genuineness, feeling the click of my vertebrae and the slighter, lighter tics of the pressure changing in my ears as my jaw worked its usual methodic back-and-forth, cartilege pressing against bone in a discomfort that's become commonplace, if not truly debilitating.
The boy in me, surfacing for the umpteenth time in recent days, the non-entity with no name who appears in none of my awkward words, looked at her with the same resignation offered the only truth that made sense. "I'm always sad," I said, voice deeper and softer than normal. Each syllable sounded abnormally precise, and I knew in that instant why people thought I was different in moments like this, laid bare and simply present, affected only unconsciously, because no one ever really escapes their facades, they simply escape the stimuli that raises the veneers to begin with.
She didn't say anything for a moment, and it really was a moment, minus the creation of an infinite heartbeat. The space between us was just the three feet between us, the air between us didn't change temperature, the metaphor didn't build, because it was gone, like all moments are, faster than it takes to acknowledge its birth. It, like us, simply existed, outside of my control even now as I recount this.
It was, now and forever--no, not even that, it simply was then--a time when we were both there.
When I say there are no words, I mean it, there are no words, they are simply the descendents of the contrivances of countless connections of countless atoms organized in just the right way, united in the simplicity of a falsehood called hope, itself a child of a falsehood called fear, itself a child of a falsehood of a falsehood.
There are no words.
There are none.
There is none.
"Don't be sad."
I looked sideways into that face, ever smiling without anything other than certainty and genuineness, feeling the click of my vertebrae and the slighter, lighter tics of the pressure changing in my ears as my jaw worked its usual methodic back-and-forth, cartilege pressing against bone in a discomfort that's become commonplace, if not truly debilitating.
The boy in me, surfacing for the umpteenth time in recent days, the non-entity with no name who appears in none of my awkward words, looked at her with the same resignation offered the only truth that made sense. "I'm always sad," I said, voice deeper and softer than normal. Each syllable sounded abnormally precise, and I knew in that instant why people thought I was different in moments like this, laid bare and simply present, affected only unconsciously, because no one ever really escapes their facades, they simply escape the stimuli that raises the veneers to begin with.
She didn't say anything for a moment, and it really was a moment, minus the creation of an infinite heartbeat. The space between us was just the three feet between us, the air between us didn't change temperature, the metaphor didn't build, because it was gone, like all moments are, faster than it takes to acknowledge its birth. It, like us, simply existed, outside of my control even now as I recount this.
It was, now and forever--no, not even that, it simply was then--a time when we were both there.
When I say there are no words, I mean it, there are no words, they are simply the descendents of the contrivances of countless connections of countless atoms organized in just the right way, united in the simplicity of a falsehood called hope, itself a child of a falsehood called fear, itself a child of a falsehood of a falsehood.
There are no words.
There are none.
There is none.
re: *bow*
thank you... i'm glad that you liked my set. i was kind-of worried that it wouldn't go over as well as it did. i can't wait to start on my next ones though. i'm assuming i won't be as nervous next time.