I have to admit, it is not all coincidence to stumble upon you in this clearing.
I halt at the edge of the tree line and observe you.
You stand there in the middle of the glade, upon lush and damp moss. Golden beams of light fall upon greyed skin, giving you an almost ethereal appearance. Quite unusual.
Slowly, I near your frame, begin to circle you, and I take my time to memorize every detail of your body.
Fleeting words invade my mind.
Surprisingly enough 'graceful'. Not 'awkward'.
'composed'. Not 'up starting'.
'courage'. Not 'wuss'.
'respect' even?
A gust of wind soars through the trees, winding up foliage around us, whipping branches wildly. But it doesn't affect you in any way, as if it doesn't touch you, flew around you, avoided you. As if you are standing apart from the world, detached in your own little sphere.
A place I don't belong to. Probably never will.
I lean in closer, in expectation of catching a glimpse of your scent, but I am met with a graphitic odor.
Not you. Not you at all.
I touch strong bare forearms, feeling the smooth texture. I can almost imagine a strong pulse beneath the surface. A heartbeat, that you, along with your temper, usually try to control when I force myself into your view. In vain, because I know which buttons to push, and whenever I corner you can do nothing but follow the rules I dictate. That is my world then, after all.
You are warm. But the heat doesn't come from you, but from your surrounding, from the sun burning down on you. I run my fingertips along one cheek, marveling at the fine structured face, that holds more details and finesse than any sculptor could have ever created.
Standing so close, and I still don't have to fear any consequences. Today, it's not your anger, I'm after.
So perhaps, today, I can dare to go further? Just this one time?
And so I tilt my head and brush my lips against your petrified ones. They are smooth, but hard and unresponding.
I step back, turn around and walk away.
Disappointed. Unsatisfied.
Because I know this is the closest I will ever get to you, the closest I will let myself get to you.
Upon leaving the clearing I mutter an 'esuna' and it drifts over to you,
breaking your spell.
And so you leave your sphere and come back to take part in this world again,
and for you, it is as if just nothing has happened at all.
I halt at the edge of the tree line and observe you.
You stand there in the middle of the glade, upon lush and damp moss. Golden beams of light fall upon greyed skin, giving you an almost ethereal appearance. Quite unusual.
Slowly, I near your frame, begin to circle you, and I take my time to memorize every detail of your body.
Fleeting words invade my mind.
Surprisingly enough 'graceful'. Not 'awkward'.
'composed'. Not 'up starting'.
'courage'. Not 'wuss'.
'respect' even?
A gust of wind soars through the trees, winding up foliage around us, whipping branches wildly. But it doesn't affect you in any way, as if it doesn't touch you, flew around you, avoided you. As if you are standing apart from the world, detached in your own little sphere.
A place I don't belong to. Probably never will.
I lean in closer, in expectation of catching a glimpse of your scent, but I am met with a graphitic odor.
Not you. Not you at all.
I touch strong bare forearms, feeling the smooth texture. I can almost imagine a strong pulse beneath the surface. A heartbeat, that you, along with your temper, usually try to control when I force myself into your view. In vain, because I know which buttons to push, and whenever I corner you can do nothing but follow the rules I dictate. That is my world then, after all.
You are warm. But the heat doesn't come from you, but from your surrounding, from the sun burning down on you. I run my fingertips along one cheek, marveling at the fine structured face, that holds more details and finesse than any sculptor could have ever created.
Standing so close, and I still don't have to fear any consequences. Today, it's not your anger, I'm after.
So perhaps, today, I can dare to go further? Just this one time?
And so I tilt my head and brush my lips against your petrified ones. They are smooth, but hard and unresponding.
I step back, turn around and walk away.
Disappointed. Unsatisfied.
Because I know this is the closest I will ever get to you, the closest I will let myself get to you.
Upon leaving the clearing I mutter an 'esuna' and it drifts over to you,
breaking your spell.
And so you leave your sphere and come back to take part in this world again,
and for you, it is as if just nothing has happened at all.