Colouring The Air Around Us

His eyes sparkle in the way that suggests he's hiding something. As he turns his head, I see the mischievous smirk hidden by the way he holds himself, and the shy shadow covering his emotion. He's never where he wants to be, I can tell from the way he's ducking his head. Could that be him? No. I'm sure he never had that harsh tint to his emotion, I'm sure he never walked that briskly. It's hard, trying to hold the images in my head when they're fading faster than the dim daylight, and once thick connection that quite literally keeps me on this earth. Not that I am on this earth. Well, physically, at least. Sitting here is lonely when other people can't see you, feel you, hear you, physically. That's how blind they are. They can't see how hard you're looking for the one person who can make it all Go Away. Anyway, regardless, it's hard. When you're imaginary.

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rated mature for swearing.