I could be beautiful, you know.
The leaves crunch under my feet, I can feel them crumble. You can’t kill the already dead, but the melancholy lingers, regardless. Like you’re pouring something of yourself into a void… is that how it feels to kiss me?
I walk in no particular direction. All the paths lead to the edge anyway. The air is crisp with life, alive with crackling electricity, like dry skin. Like skin. Like your skin and mine. Am I walking away from where we used to be? I could stay. I would if you asked me to, you know.
I have been here long enough for dew to collect on my lashes. Rainbows, throwing colors in my eyes. Throwing colors in my world. I never looked at colors before. There was you, and they were there. Is that what you wanted? I could be colorful, you know.
Let me smile. Let me laugh at the sand between my toes at seashells the color of your eyes. Let me live for these, and I promise you, I could be alive. I could see you, and see myself, and see the world. And the sunsets, and the misting spray over running water, and the ridges in the concrete where the gravel is slippery under my feet. and the wind pushes me, pulls me, calling me to fly. There is no end in sight, and no end is perfect. I don’t want us to end.
Let me kiss you. Wet from the rain, limp and bedraggled and all yours, always yours. Let me kiss you before I go, your sweet summer kisses of citrons and mint, and smoke and vodka. Your winter warmth and your ice, the ice I got tired of carving my name into, your heart. Let me kiss it all before I go.
I could keep those kisses with me. I could be beautiful for you, you know. I could smile back at you and run back into your arms, if you promised to never let go too. I could, but there is no end in sight, and I will reassure myself in that last, last rush of blood to my head as all senses fall away. Not as good as you, but I could work with that.
Time to fly….