Random thing I popped out this evening, in which Russia muses. Please enjoy~
Leather clad fingers twined together, melding one into the other like the grape vines climbing together reaching for the sun. We both reach for the sun… or maybe the stars. Far beyond the moon which you have already conquered long ago. When did we stop reaching past each other and start reaching towards each other? It seems like forever ago, but I can still feel the fire that consumed us both in the days before.
We have always been looking at each other. Behind thick lenses. You your glasses, and I my own natural lenses. I can remember the days before you were there to stare at, to glare at, to wander over with my own purple glass. But then you must have been there before I first saw you, da? I was here before you first saw me. It is not strange to think that you might be even older than I. You were born so far away. But so close as well. At one point just a bridge away. We could have walked to meet each other. Or to meet your brother.
I squeeze your hand and feel the warmth of your palm like a little sun in my hand. Maybe we were always watching each other, over the twisting waves and below the slow dancing clouds. We were always looking for each other. I search for the clouds that hang in your skies now. All that is ever there is open blueness though. Even when you are broken and sobbing, through all those times your skies never grayed or overcastted that color.
So blue.
I get lost in them. Not even the unease plainly sung by your songbirds can bring me from it. And the skies shift to the ground for a moment and I lose track of their openness. But I am back with you, the whole you and your slight fidgeting and inquiries. I brush them off as nothing, and you laugh them off with some comment about my own strangeness. But it is not strange to appreciate what you can never have. My skies are always covered in heavy clouds. I can look up and see the ever present looming that reflects my lenses. A plate of glass between the heavens and I would act more a mirror than a pane. Then I glance over to your open skies. Skies that always embrace you and anyone else.
The tightness in my chest never reaches my face. Only a carefree smile is there for you. And anyone else. But no one else looks…
Our hands are free and our feet are moving, each in time with the other's mate, but the distance between us is as large as the distance between our skies.
"Skies which could never meet" The thought passes lazily, but is followed quickly by its sibling.
"You could never have such skies." And then a triplet.
"Not even if you took them." And then all three are quickly killed, but their corpses still hang about like lynching victims swinging from tree branches, waiting for birds to clean up the mess left by men.
To take those skies…
Nyet. It should not be thought of. I should not think of taking those skies from you. Of keeping them by me… So that I may gaze at their endless clarity whenever I please… That I need just look to my shelf. Or perhaps my bedside table. Nyet. I must not think of such things. So when my hand finds yours again, I do not think of skies anymore.
But now I think of your warmth…
another thing I cannot keep.
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