Capricious

14 - Cherry Blossom

"I can never read all the books I want; I can never be all the people I want and live all the lives I want. I can never train myself in all the skills I want. And why do I want? I want to live and feel all the shades, tones and variations of mental and physical experience possible in life. And I am horribly limited."
- Sylvia Plath

Green eyed temptress, what changed there? Or how did I miss it? Behind facades once more, beauty of mind and body, a playfulness in kind, but cloaked in profession. I graze my marbles across hers, emerald canopies far within. Concentration stolen from voice and movement to lodge my thought into and from that most fragile rope bridge. Instead waiting on by, filtering to dreams for a time, even stars, blue or green. But if the risk wasn't there, would there lie desire at all?

Do we ever really choose our roads? Are there others who shift us, persuade us subconsciously? Or do roads take us with them? Is chaos merely made of order?

Trapped in dark green curtains. Behold, I bear this burden. A midsummer day's dream is all I've ever seen. That's the way I wish to play, yet grey resolve laughs at my dismay. Life is all ever a fall, from start to end. Yet length, width and depth differ dear friend. Those drawn together bind into a rope; stronger, secure, an invisible cloak. Falling faster for a rush, falling too fast to touch. Spinning too, designing every dimension anew.

My heart beats faster, odd associations fear comeuppance. Forgotten too easy, when dreams and eyes start to steal passers-by. Across oak tables, diagonally it starts. A truth so innocent, so comes your knight at arms. Surrounding her to do this thing, hands twisting at ebony string. Aware it's her, face seized by her leg, a cute silence. My hands give way, lost caressing that cream, baring sweet pale fruit untouched. Afraid to be too tight, might we not be friends. Warming glow, an urge to overthrow, black lingerie and crimson decor. Why was there ever that distance grown, from blush to flush to completely unknown?

I need to know. I need to understand who I am, how I work. I look around, exploring to find that place where I know. Still looking. For unto that time I will be alone, I will never have a home, I will be as cold as stone, Fires trapped inside, heat procrastinating, pressuring temperature higher clean to the clouds. Breaking points, that tempt near to death, they circle ever there, looking prettier each day.

Cherry blossom trees and thick white snow. Sharp black benches and fur edged coats. Remembering all we saw in the half-baked sun. Petals shift around us, rain softly upon your face. Lamplight tends to the glow. Slow punctures swift on pink lips. Breathing vapour mists the air. Falling down, hands behind heads. Eagles in our heat, shawls lost from our shoulders. Puncturing faster, we hungry in the night, even-skilled predators. Steaming in the cold, heat the child of our passion. "Fuck me."

Dragons swimming through the air, palm trees standing with barely a stare. Shores of the meridian, the English riviera. Playing in the shallows, pebbles under our feet. Seven storeys tall, castles cliff high, dungeons in the shadows. Fields and farms, sun hats and the barn. Screwing through till dawn.

Astronauts. Left in space. Oxygen gone. Lifting visors to death to kiss you once more.

New York. High rise windows, apartment aperture. Bagels naked for the view. Angel cake, living for the milkshake. Bars for you, coffee shops for me. We live them together, and everything else. To ever climb to these roles through teachings from afar, and then into each other's arms. Running to the roof. That place you could be you.

"Hey handsome." Bouncing miles at a time. Cottages in the woods. Friendship defined by growing together, how could we fear anything at all? Library forming a maze, bookshelves hiding all, dim light, mild hum. Reading, learning.

Two wheels through Trent Park. Reading on the bench, of Achilles and Patroclus. Sun setting over the terracing view. A soundtrack of crickets, doused in silence.

Ice trailing mists across my skin. Winter along my body, summer in my mind. Creativity exploding all the while.

Parchment and quill, ink black thick sticking words from mind. My study desk. Nights to be in bars seeing you, after up and fame and proving wrong. Playing again.

Bouncing on a trampoline. Falling onto me. Cowgirl.

Something is coming together, from thoughts of every angle, an answer tackled from everywhere, my theory of everything, that's the only way to storm the keep.

How do I capture you? You are nothing but smoke.

Burning alive. That the risk I must take. To feel anything at all. This or that. Heat treacherous. I can't let slip.

Could those figures from there, from that transcendent madness, could they be those who are close enough to my code, who value the same, who can come together to live intensely bright. These of us know ourselves, no self-consciousness to beset, we revel in the power of who we are. Genius and artist, we know our place, not to rule the world, but to guide it. Natural order, influenced then by class, by culture, by circle, all distorting who we are meant to be. The fear to bend to those of the same ring, away from me. Because we are free, we are gods. We do everything beyond, everything better, because we exist in every world, every dimension. An explorer I have then become, if I can unite our colourful souls, then we will win.

I want sudden bright lights. A vault dark. Candles and fairy lights and headlights iridescent, blaring streams of colour across every surface. Deep electronica through the walls. Wooden panels and blood red paint. Hidden entry. Setting stage, cushions and duvets lounging around. Our very oxygen now thick with the psychedelic. Ready to explode in satisfaction. Mouths inhaling, making out against another, overloading each sense with brilliant samples of perfection, escalating indulgence, the purest rush. Delicacies, music's waves, beauties in ears, eyes, nose and mouth, against body, mind, psyche and soul. We know what to do, we have no fear. We live for experience, we live to live everything.

Train through field, forest and mountain range. Coffee and tablet at the helm. Eyes amassing wealth, fingers spending it on gold. I must at some point take a wander through the continent's streets. A million chances stranger in stranger worlds.

You were the one who shot me raw, you really expect me to know any more? Eyes imprints of the metaphoric soul, for we only see our dreams, only see so differently. In colour and texture and language of the mind. Yes, I know you. Let's be and be true. We can guide them through, if only you were you.

Savouring your crisp pastry, surrounded by incensed skin. Shudder and a shake, from reality wake.

I'm seeing compatibility through the screen, those that I would be. Culture close, but people never seen. If they were known, what could have been?

The day is at its end. A single tear has rained. Feigned understandinggrown, coupled by a sprinkle of envy. Who cares for the things I say? Whatchances did I pass? I so want to be me. Won't any of you let me?