Yellow

written September27, 2008

yellow.

she is broken. paint your hair in tears, weave the purfume into your heart. your scent of sorrows. emty and aching. tears plummeting inside,, but they never reach the eyes. trapped in a glass bottle. no one ever sees the tears. break the bottle, let the river flow,.. the surges and the waterfalls…. let the river flow?

amber curtains, carry me away. melt my mind, on the other side of the light, demolishing in the surreal streetlights. it is night, and our voices echo off the graffitti walls.

golden ages. golden minds.

it is dark. late night conversations. slightly more grown up than we were any time before...

intricate letters of curious designs, being carved in to a wall... picture perfect in all it's flaws, writing our story, making the story of our golden age, an epic tale, a saga of two hands entwined. the ticking clock turned backwards for one blink of an eye...

it was the beginning. five feet of space between us. it's not been like this since centuries lost. i am swimming, i am floating. i am dreaming. it's been years, and i have so much to say but my tongue is in twisted knots. my soul just shakes and quivers. yes, i am very nervous. you always say the things so well. your words, they are like reading poetry.

oh how, i feel that i could cry.

i was running, and you crossed my path. i could not breathe. i could not breathe at all. our eyes met a million times, and we always look away. finally, at last, the way you always do: sideways, taking the long way around, so i don't know where you're headed. you come nearer. and you are here. is this real? Is this real. "can i talk to you when you are done?" "yeah.." "yeah?.... ok, i'll be over there." your voice. your eyes. your stance. the way you step.

small talk. Mesmerizing. summerizing life, from our separate windows. oh, it was far too bussiness like i thought. we look from different windows. but sometimes i can see you still,… in my dreams. but of course, i never told you. how i wish.... someone like you............ like you.

and at last. we said the words we needed to tell. and this time i could see that you really meant it. this time. this time. it was not all just apathetic routine.

the smoky air from your hands and your breath calmed my nerves and the scent, like the day we sat beneath the bridge... your shorts, like the ones you wore the day we sat in corey's car. music. Like the myriad of copied records, of course, I have them still. you are like the people in books, the people i wish were real in the movies.

embrace so cold. i can still feel your fingers. i can still remember so clearly that day... when i looked at the reflection in the window. perfection. I saw us the way the world saw…. In a world where we never quite fit in, but there was always something so right those days.

Tainted. My world is the flickering slides running across, projections on the wall. Tainted in gold. Yellow. The faded photography in those albums on your grandmother's shelf. Yellow. The surreal blur, this serenity. This sadness I am so content in. the world is more beautiful looking through these eyeglasses of silk and of gold.