Disclaimer: It'd be nice if I owned them...
Blue skies line the indigo horizon as fingers of white probe the edges. Breathe the empty air of this tired place and fall into your reverie, my dream. The spray of colors drips down your face and suffocates you in its borrowed rays, tainted golden. Pale specters of twilight's castings: they seem at peace with you. I smile. Something in your ambience, I guess.
I catch your eye now – a gleam of something unnoticed. Maybe it's how I'm looking at you. You turn with the odd grace that slips around you now and then. I'm tired now; I'd rather you not. You swallow, lines of your neck jarred out of place, and speak, beautifully unaware of what you've shattered.
"Tif."
I nod. I go after you, careful not to step on the broken pieces you left behind. "Cloud."
I rise and the line between close and too close blurs to a dangerous haze. Those thoughts of yours etch lines down your spine and hang off your shoulders. You're too easy to read. What we can and cannot do drifts past too quickly for either of us to truly see. But that glimpse tears through our standstill with aching clarity. We could touch. I'd wind my arms around you and you'd lean back slightly, intangibly – falling into a silence that said more than we ever could. But I'm not that brave and you're not that foolish.
She's dead for us. I understand. But sometimes, I think about the way our shadows faded afterwards.
A breeze plays with our hair and tugs at our clothes, so we watch you and me blow by, thin and wispy. Too frail to last. Maybe that's why we hold each other at arm's length, no more, no less. Our balance sways unevenly, far too vulnerable to whims we'll never harbor. Those dreams dancing around us? I could laugh. Silly as make-believe.
You've always had a couple of inches on me. Like the crisp, cool mist of morning dew, your outline blocks out the sun. Uneven shafts of light eclipse your silhouette gently. For a second you transfigure into that hero the world has made you out to be, alone and complete. I'm facing you now and the hues reclined against your face shade in someone else clutching ideals and ambitions that he can't want. He dissolves quickly, evanescent. Careful though, I might start believing he's still there.
At the end, you meet my eyes steadily, disconcertingly – too confident in the sins that don't belong to you. Your gaze shifts slightly as you barely search for a salvation only ghosts offer. You tilt your head to the side; I'm hard to see when you're like this. There's a question threading through your lips but you don't ask it. You walk away quietly, feet scraping the gray pavement like two panes of glass colliding. The dust you toss carelessly away chokes my breath. You don't notice, following that non-existent path illuminated by a star that I can never know.
A/N: Drabble-esque, I know. It's my first FFVII fic so comments and critique would be invaluable.