behold a dream .｡.:*☆ pink floyd imagines

syd #4

{ last one for someone who has been so influential on me without me even knowing it. shout-out to syd, whose music makes me think of winter walks at pitch-black six o'clock pm. and to everyone who has taken the time to read this little thing, thank you for everything~ it's been such a wonderful space for creativity }

he'd paint the sky for you. or take all the stars from it and fashion them into a diamond necklace just to see you smile. he sips your health in that abundant way, kisses to your chest and neck until you're jovial and limp. before him, you never realized you could love someone so much.

you're in the dream-fog of waking up, all your thoughts mixed with him as your fingers wash over his ribs.

"syd," you whisper. your hand finds the hair on his chest and you kiss his side to see if he'll wake. nothing.

but his diaphragm rises and falls with each breath and he's there, right in front of you. all of him. you move closer to see his face in full view. this secret is yours to keep. deep in your chest, you hope no one else gets the chance to see him.

with your index finger you push a curly strand away from his forehead. his eyes open slowly at the feeling: hazel, tired, telling.

no good morning. no how did you sleep? instead he removes the hand from his brow and presses it to his lips. your fingers curve at the sensation on your palm, but straighten when he moves upward, praising each knuckle-line.

"i love these hands," he murmurs. his voice is weary with sleep. "so sweet."

you smile and tangle yourself in his legs. time seems so slow, it always does when you're with him, and you let yourself lay down beside. he drops your hand and leans away, returning with a morning cigarette for the both of you. you shake your head and he raises his brows in that way he often does with you, questioning and judging. 

"they're bad. the doctors say so," you hand the stick back to him.

he laughs with a sound like windchimes and lights only one, bringing it to his lips.

"you're a worrier. stop worrying so much." his chiding is playful. it prickles your skin.

"i only worry because i love you." you watch the smoke rise like a dancer into the air. your body straightens. 

"i love you too. always have."

it's the first time. your first exchange of those three words. you don't want to break the feeling. breathing a sigh, you turn over and wrap around him, the most comfortable you've ever been.

{ and one more thing. if there are any fans of The Who reading, i'd really love to start a Who imagines book. stay tuned for that! }