glass

through a silvery haze, two bodies outstretched in the middle of a sea of cacophonous sound.

for the record, the air resonates with portishead, radiohead, massive attack and sporadic vibrations of burial.

"you will be the death of me," i direct to my opposite as she lights another cigarette, subtlety gesturing the pack in my general direction to provide an amiable gesticulation.

although an atypical social smoker, i politely decline and swiftly link my hands together to signify that i am simultaneously content and uncomfortable.

our insecurities spill out from our throats.

"we don't belong in this world," she says as she playfully mimes cutting herself a newfound grin from ear to ear.

and immediately following this, i let out a subtle smile.

then it hits me--as if a lead brick pummeled into my chest, shattering my sternum along with all its contents--this is what compatibility feels like.

i run the situation through my head, through the synapses and the nervous landscape they traverse.

this is what compatibility feels like.

i rise to my feet, walk towards her, that curled, minimized bundle of a body sitting in my chair with her arms wrapped around her knees, creating a compact and uniquely efficient mound of endearment, and place a gentle kiss atop of her head.

with this, i smell the fragrant amalgamation of cigarettes and shampoo, inadvertently attempting to triangulate when was the last time her body was slathered in the mist of a shower.

i imagine her with a grin so authentic and purposeful, that i begin to deteriorate.

imagining an ounce of hurt to be placed upon her, i break.

"i wish that i could protect you and be everything that you would ever need," i whisper atop of her head. i know that this is a white lie, and i know that she knows, too. i breathe these words and visualize them seeping into her golden locks and tender scalp. realistically knowing that they won't cross her blood brain barrier, but optimistically wishing for it so.

i feel the tips of her fingers dig into my vertebrae.