Before you knew

133. Breath in.

We sit on the first step of the porch, rain falling down in front of us as faint rumbling fills my ears.
I can't help the first tear that leaves my eyes.

Oh how beautifully tragic this is.

'What did you want to talk about?'
Clays voice is careful, as he searches for the right words,
Not wanting to upset me further.

I clench my jaw as the first crystal clear tear moves over the forms of my face.
This wasn't supposed to happen, but....

It did.
So I may as well embrace the pain of it too.

I smile up at the dark clouds, and mourn the life I will now never return to.
I'll survive this.

I'll live,
And I'll breath.

Let the undoubtable beauty of pain drag me away, through the fields of sorrow, and let me breath in the fresh air.

Breath

'I'm sorry, about this.' I say. Clay fiddles with the hem of his shirt as the warm, humid air and the smell of rain cover me as a blanket. He waits patiently for my words to continue. It's a patience he doesn't usually have. 'I'm sorry, if this is not what you wanted, but....' I turn my head to meet his eyes. His brows knit together as his green eyes meet mine. The wave of comfort and fear burns through me with one look. I notice how his freckles have started to become more clear the longer he has been in the sun.

I bite my bottom lip as I look at him.
'Can you..... could you kiss me?'

The question creates confusion in his eyes.
Maybe this will be the last time.

'Please tell me we're not breaking up.'
'I hope not.'

He seems worried, but leans closer anyways.
The heat of his skin radiates on mine.
Soft lips and bitter heartache.

'Clay, I....'

After he pulled back I try to find the words to describe the situation, but I find none.

Plastic.
A small plastic object that shows two lines, and with that my future, if not ours.
No words need to be spoken to explain. Eyes will do the job.

My hands shake lightly as I pull the plastic object from my back pocket.
Clays curious eyes follow my movement and lock on the white and pink plastic in my hand the second he can see it.
I hold it out for him, and, with hesitation, he takes it from me.

This is it.
For better or for worse.

Unable to look at him, I turn my head to look at the downpour that waters the dry earth.
And I breath in.

I Let my lungs fill with writhing storms, and let them take me whole. Breath in the pain of beauty, the fondness of skin, soft. Unorthodox lines that blur the border between pain and pleasure,
fall from the sky as if you've never had wings.

Crash, for the merciless gods that have betrayed me in my thoughts.
Crash hard.
So hard that my pain becomes beauty as I lay on the soft earth, looking at the bright stretched out sky as the hidden stars gaze down apon me.

As if Apollo had given me wings, just to watch me burn and fall.

Yet I fell, and felt pleasure as I, so dangerously hit the earth. The earth and soil on which I belong.

Breath in the stars,
breath it all in.

For whatever faith has decided, lays now,

In Clays hands.