my body is made of crushed little stars
the nighttime wind is cool against my cheeks, whipping my hair around me like an aura of black. apartment blocks line up like dominos before me, their black, unwashed windows reflecting a faint, grimy image of the city. watching the lone sedan run the red light on the empty street, feeling the first few droplets of rain slide through my hair, i close my eyes and let my emotions overflow. many maybes swirl around me, an impermanent and invisible fog of regret and denial. are these tears or just rain? i cannot tell. hot and cold drops of crystallised air. they feel comforting to have on my cheeks, a reminder that im alive and you're not.
hey. your familiar voice rings out. keeping my eyes closed, feeling the tugging of the wind in my hair and the drizzle of rain against my skin, the demons in my mind fall unexpectedly quiet. it feels just a tiny bit warmer with you next to me. you wrap your arms around me, and we stand there on the rooftop in December, savouring the silence of the night and the chilliness in the air.
do you think we'll be able to become proper adults? there's an imperceptible tremor in your whisper. your insecurity and fear is leaking again. i assume mine is too, for your grip on me tightens by a fraction of a finger.
sure we will, no problem. i gently release your hands from my sweater and slip mine into them. they feel scarily cold and dry.
it's you and me we're talking about, after all. i murmur. hand in hand, we face the start of the new decade together. and i know that as long as i am with you, everything will be alright. that's what friends are for, after all.
yeah. your whisper sounds loud in the echoing stillness of this Christmas day. i sigh, wisps of condensation disappearing into the night.
merry christmas, krystal.