Broken
I watch silently from the shadows as he crosses the street, in that way he does, a sort of lazy, confident stride.
It's smooth, his gait. he flows like water.
He has so much confidence for someone so hated as him. So sought after. So affected. Anything and everything bad that could possibly have happened to him in this war did, They keep evading him, hiding him, placing him in an immense and utterly lonely darkness, over and over, when he gets so close to his truth, so close he can feel it's scouring heat and cleansing light, almost thereā¦and then it's gone. Vanished.
With it his hope.
But I am there, always. Watching him. Giving his hope back to him, it's rightful owner.
The proper term would be guardian angel, I think, but no. that's not what he would call me, is it?
I chuckle to myself in the dark recesses of his apartment. No, that's not what he would call me.
I can hear his footsteps approaching, the echo of them reverberating inside of my head, filling the caverns of my body. He does not know the effect he has on me. no, he doesn't, not even when the pain of his fist is singing through my body, as if a heavenly chorus, so intense in it's beauty, clean in it's sharp, sweet pain.
The blood that he sheds is clean because he sheds it.
And I want him to know.
The soft click of the door is my paradise, as I hold my breath and gaze upon his smooth, passive face. His eyes are dim, I can tell, even in the darkness, I can see the loneliness pouring out of them like the slow melancholy waves of a sad gray sea.
Oh you have placed yourself on a high pedestal, haven't you? You fight for the truth, and you make yourself a martyr. And what for?
I step out of the shadows, not quickly but with enough movement to make my presence known. I don't move now, I can feel his gaze upon me, burning, but I don't dare look. So I look down at the floor. It seems so natural in his presence. He is so high above me.
I hear him say my name, in his soft velvet voice. It's traces caress my ears, and I look up, for fear that he might not be real.
He is standing in front of me now, my gaze is locked with his. I can feel the sparking energy in his eyes, but the only expression on his face is that calm.
I look down again, the sheer magnitude of his eyes upon me having an unnerving effect upon my equilibrium.
"I am broken." I whisper the words so lightly I wonder if I've dreamt saying them.
I can feel his heat coming closer, his cleansing presence honing in on me, and it is shocking and sweet as his lips brush across mine and I hear his hushed voice wash over me again.
"Nothing that can't be fixed."
