I knew we shouldn't have entered the park the moment we set foot in it. It was well past midnight and the gates were closed, which, for me, was a clear indication that we were supposed to keep out. For me, not for her. So we had climbed up a tree and jumped over the brick wall, down onto a bench and taken off into the small forest that grew here. We lied down on the ground, next to each other, near enough for me to feel the heat radiating off her, and she talked about star constellations and astronomic phenomenons and how much she loves the night sky and the night itself, with its peaceful silence.
I had closed my eyes a few minutes ago, marvelling at the sound of her quiet, raspy voice murmuring things about stars and the moon and how much she likes to paint it and how its beauty never fails to mesmerise her.
But then, I wanted to see the way her eyes lit up brightly enough to compete with the stars, how she smiled her most brilliant of all smiles, exclusively dedicated to the things she loves most, how the pale moonlight turned her soft golden hair into a stream of languid silver.
Her pupils were blown due to the darkness, the stars were reflecting in those black pools and I found myself dumbstruck by her beauty, studying her face, memorizing it, mapping with my eyes what my fingers will never be allowed to touch. Even though it had been halfway hidden by the tree shadows, the stars illuminated her face, accentuating her cheekbones, her jawline and the curve of her neck. She laughed, whole hearted and freely, and it was ravishing me, capturing me, stunning me.
She concentrated on the infinity above us, adoring the galaxies and stars the way I was adoring her. She finds the most beautiful things looking at the sky, while I only focuse on her.
My gaze was locked upon her, her silhouette in the dark and her face, lit up by the silvery shimmer of the stars.
For a second, I allowed myself the bittersweet imagination of a life with her, hundreds of evenings filled with peace and fascination and her, mornings with her, her sleepy voice the first thing for me to hear, her fingers brushing a strand of hair out of my face the first thing for me to feel, her sweet and clean scent the first thing for me to smell, her glorious smile the first thing for me to see and her mouth when she kisses me the first thing for me to taste, days with short messages and meetings in between our compulsories, moments in which my perception is busied with grasping the concept of her. But I know that for me, her heart is as unreachable as the infinity above us.
My vision flickered to her eyes again. I saw the stars and the endless void in between them reflected in those dark oceans. There are galaxies in her eyes, but I can not find a single star in mine.
The object of her admiration was up there, but mine was right next to me, oblivious to the fact that if she read between the lines, she would see that the signs were there. She would see how her name is poetry for me, her body a painting, her voice the most magnificent of all sounds.
Perhaps she has always known about how she is the most beautiful piece of art to me, about how her smile is a drug for me and I'm addicted, how I'm aching for her even though she's not mine to desire. Perhaps she's always known how I'm unfinished, how I'm not only missing her but how she is missing from me.
Perhaps she decided to get lost in the vastness miles and miles away from us rather than acknowledging me admiring the miracle she is like she admires the miracle of the unreachable. Perhaps she just left me stuck where we are to discover the endless possibilities and opportunities of what is not ours to have.
Her world isn't restricted to the borders of the tangible whereas my horizon only goes as far as what my eyes can see.
I resigned myself to the hopelessness long ago. She does not see me like I see her; adored beauty, who just like me, adores beauty. I never stood a chance against the infinity. She sees the world, she sees space, she sees beauty everywhere. She has an artist's eye and a curious mind. There has never been a possibility for me to even get into her peripheral vision. It's a fight lost long before it started; yet somehow, I have never been able to fully capitulate to that knowledge. It might cost me my heart and tear my soul apart, but I was never able to give up.
For I moment I averted my eyes, soaking up the moment, savouring it. The night sky above us was beautiful, a deep and dark purplish blue, looking as soft as velvet. There were no clouds; yet the upcoming fog prevented the night from being clear enough to see a lot of stars. Those that where visible, however, shone bright and luminous, but also all the more lonely. It was magnificent, gracious, brilliant.
A sense of melancholy overcame me. She was lying next to me but at the same time as far away as the firmament; once more I conceded to the fact that my unrequited love resembled the galaxies overhead: lonely, gracious, sad.