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.

vices

and then we awoke to our audible laughter. distorted whimpers filtered through silk fabric, a sound sieve.

a set of eyes, transfixed.

"i don't know what to think; of what we are and what we're going to eventually become," slithers off her tongue.

"i'm only temporarily alive. it could somehow evolve to have permanence, or this could be singular," i mechanically deliver from myself to the body opposite.

we've arisen above the haze, although emblazoned with hesitation wounds.

"you could be what i want," she spills with eager eyes.

"am i capable?" with upsetting honesty.

i don't know if i should be hopelessly hurt or foolishly flattered.

we breathe into each other and sleep in an endless, suspended state.

ivy

running my fingers over the arms of the tiny chairs we sit in, i simultaneously think about the physical texture of touch and the way she fidgets. something is telling me that we're not as empty as we perceive ourselves to be, at least not in this very minute, finite space of time. all i can experience is the slow decay of everything around and within us.

truth and lies, hidden under masks of ambiguity and false pretenses.

i close my eyes and see beauty.

ideals

wherever there lies a dying light, i can only hope, only wish, to see you there.

blindly running, arms outstretched, towards the only scent that your gait can bear.

i can only thank you for how much you've helped me breathe.

pulled me to the surface, propelled higher than any human spectacle can hope to see.

honestly, i love you.

barriers

"just drive," i said.

we're slithering through the decrepit array of buildings that line the beach at dusk. the burnt auburn pours its radiance down on us, the windows rolled down and our arms resting on their respective sides of the car. i sift through the center console, past the cigarettes, to find a cylinder of lip balm. i toss it to her side without turning my head as my lips are satiated.

the further we drive, the less populated and vibrant our surroundings become. i direct her to pull the car onto a dirt path and she gently glides the car into a gravel roundabout in front of a single solitary building facing the beach-front. i tell her to empty her pockets and we each leave our own little pile of personal effects in our seats.

the things we keep with us to ensure security, personality, and identity.

"you holding out on me?" i pinpoint my eyes on her from above the roof of the car.

she splays her arms towards me, bare and perfect and beautiful as they frame her dress.

we walk up a couple of cracked, splintered, wooden steps and through an unlocked door. inside, there is no furniture, no furnishings except for a single ceiling lamp. i run my fingers along the dimly-lit walls and toggle the switch on, the warm electricity unable to fully engulf the room in its rays, but enough to cast our gentle shadows throughout.

i look back, and i can see that her back is up against the wall, arms crossed with a certain assymetry in her eyes.

"and this is?" she seems to be questioning the room rather than me.

awkwardly, her hands search for things to bury her insecurities in. she has nothing to grab onto, no handholds or minute materialistic possessions to keep her busy. i watch as she clasps her hands and moves massages her wrists, eyes upturned and unevenly biting her lips.

i motion with my head and extend my arm with an open hand attached to the end. she reluctantly accepts, and i pull her towards me, only to intentionally miss and we slowly spin. calmly rotating, the world slowly dissolves and all our senses blend into an indescribable occurrence of synesthesia.

in this one simple moment, nothing seems to matter.

we've both given up the ghost.

"this is reality," i say with an unimaginable amount of certainty.

"you're real," she responds, as her voice trembles with a mixture of joy and melacholy. her body tremors as she lets her walls dissolve.

we collapse.