Take a pebble and through it in the stream. Take another pebble and through it at my heart. Ping. That's the sound of it bouncing off my heart and landing in my cupped hands. It doesn't hurt. Ping. That's the sound that I hear when you look into my eyes. Mesmerized by your gaze. It's like looking at a beautiful flower. A work of art that is unlike anything you've ever seen. Everything is a blur except you. You and your pebble.
I am balancing on a tree branch. Will you catch me if I fall? You've let me fall before. Falling in that that sense is bitter. It confirms everything you wanted to know and while you hit the ground like a ton of bricks you realize that you're at the end of the story. And it didn't have a happy ending. But life is a series of story's.
There's a field that I dream of. At night I drift to this field and I run free and I fall into the tall grass and it's nice. I sit on a blanket in the middle of the field and sing sweetly. The sun is coming up and shines in my hair. You are there sometimes. Standing in the distance. You won't come to me. I'm afraid that you'll never come to me. Every night I will come to this field where it is always daytime, and you will be frozen in the distance. Not moving towards my blanket. I try to ask you to come sit with me. I love being alone but not always. I'd rather you were with me right now. Instead of standing in the tall grass that hides everything but your face from my eyes. I get up and run to you. Jumping over stones and brushing my hand on the ends of the weeds. But you look away and something stops me. You are fading away into the sunset. And I am awoken by the breeze of you disappearance. Awoken into the dark artificial world that I live in. Closing my eyes to hold on the the last bits and pieces of the memories. The pebble and you throwing it and the field and the blanket and running to you and reaching to you and looking into your eyes. The flowers and the sunrise. The world of a beauty that I can only dream of.
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