Feelings and thoughts can leave you as soon as they enter, and at the end of the day you will have forgotten everything about them. Almost. Some thoughts linger, same goes for some feelings. They linger, in my heart and in my mind, just like your smiling face.
Today you smiled at me, through your tears that is. Human tears are beautiful, but a ninja's tears are disgraceful. We who live only for the purpose of being a tool are not allowed to cry, not really. We're supposed to be strong, supposed to be inhuman. Tears are classified as human in this world. As something only weak people do, therefore, we are not allowed to cry. Especially not in front of another. Even so, you did cry today. As it was the first time I saw you cry, it is the first time I saw you smile. Weird, isn't it? I always thought you were unable to do either.
Perhaps I was right? Perhaps you are unable to cry? And I'm just imagining things? Or perhaps it was me who was smiling while crying?
Either way, I keep the image of those tears close to my heart. The same heart that began to pump faster when I saw you. Even though my face is never entirely emotionless, I can sometime be. The emotions that burn so strongly sometimes fade into nothingness. Like I saw you do. You faded into the background. For once, people were unable to see you. You, who always have flocks of girls and boys around you.
I wonder how many hearts you've broken? And how many hearts you will break?
I squat and place my finger on the ground. My shadow, the only place the sun doesn't reach, is dark. Almost as dark as you.
I remember that you were mumbling something about a thread as your tears rolled down those cheeks that deserve to be kissed until they can't feel anything anymore. The thread, I wonder, could it be what this is? This invisible thing I feel around my finger that connects me to you? When you go too far, I will be pulled along. But I don't mind. Even if you pull me to the deepest pits of hell, I will be glad. Because I will not be alone. May the devils dance around us, or the flames lick our skin, I will be glad.
My finger moves across the ground. I do not know what I'm drawing. It could be you. It could be me, or even the thread. Since my finger leaves no trace except for in my mind, I don't know what it draws, all I know is what I want it to be. I want it to be the road to my dreams. A road without obstacles. A straight, sunny road. One that you will walk along side me.
Oh, I see it now. It's nothing of those things I said. I instead wrote something. I wrote a name. And it belongs to you. A name what I hope one day will stand next to mine. If not someplace where people can see it, then in my mind.
Our names, they sound to different, yet, they sound good together. It's kind of like us, don't you think?
I also remember you said something about an angel. Who could that angel be? Someone you hold dear? Or someone that holds you dear? I guess I will never really know, because I could never ask. Even if our names were to stand beside each other, I simply couldn't.
Maybe I could get the wind to whisper it to me? If I asked nicely it might repeat what was said earlier today. Or perhaps I can ask the ground to write it out for me? The ground, which your teardrops touched. I wonder if those tears were for me. If they were, does that mean I will cry too?
Will I cry if you cut this so-called thread? Or will I be free? I ask this because I could never cut it myself. I don't want to. Instead, I might just follow you to hell.
Then neither us will have to cry.
