The perfect halo of gold hair and lightning
Sets you off against the planet's last dance
...I wanna see you as you are now
Every single day that I am living
Painted in flames, a peeling thunder
Be the lightning in me that strikes relentless
...I don't wanna run, just overwhelm me.
- What if the Storm Ends? - Snow Patrol.
We are holding hands, which is rare. Our fingers don't feel loose as if they're prepared to be torn apart. From danger, from fear, from love, from death, from the knowledge of how little one knows of the other. This is time and how it should feel, forever.
This is what we live for, and will be willing to die for. Together. Hands entwined; feet dangling; hearts floating.
"This is new," she told me. I felt in her voice, joy I never knew she had. So much happiness, that her heart was smooth, free of the cracks and tears in which she normally carried.
"Mmhmm," was all I could say. It wasn't difficult for words to suddenly evaporate off my tongue when I was with her. Sometimes it was because of the fear of saying too much. Today, it was simply because she looked absolutely radiant.
We were perched on the edge of our home. This blue beautiful box that we both loved; where we both belonged. We watched existence and breathed its life.
She held my hand tighter as if she would never ever let go. "Today's a special day," she prompted. "What do you want to do?"
The answer was simple.
"Nothing at all, if you ask me. This is nice. Just nice."
Looking at our hands, there was nothing more to say. There used to be too many words. Now silence was just as comforting. There was nothing new and nothing old. Nothing more to be said.
She smiled. I saw the creases it made on her cheeks and near the corners of her eyes. This is time. This is how it supposed to be. Us defined by memories, moments both shared and linear.
I touched the tip of her nose. A set of sparkling teeth peaked beneath her lips. "I love this," she told me. "Me and you, and this." She opened her arms to infinity and hugged its magnificence.
We saw colours swirl and minuscule dots hum with life. I put an arm around her, holding her close. This is time.
And it was enough.
I won't talk of tomorrow. Or what it awaits. I won't think of her or me in any other way. In the future or the past or any of those scars.
Or the clouds that fill with rain, ready to pour on my parade. Or the thunder that comes after the silent lightning. I am the whisper in the wind.
I am the storm.
Yet in this moment, in this fraction of peace before the weight of infinite secrets crashes upon us, before everything will never be the same ever again;
I am just here; with her, and there is no place in existence that I would rather be.