doors

“What r u thinking?”
the words rained upon his brow, snapping him back from the beach in his mind. The question came from her lips but started in her diamond eyes, pulsed from her hungry heart and shed itself on her tounge. He couldn’t lie to her again but he didn’t even understand where the truth was anymore, the life that was built on shining silver lies and near impossible dreams was blinding now to cappuccino eyes.

“Tell me what ure thinking.”
her hands under her chin, as if her beautiful head was a monument of gold that her flesh alone could not support. He remembered that he loved her, he knew that, he hoped that she knew. He remembered how he met her, how they had been sent crashing into each other’s lives. He remembered the promise he had made himself years earlier and had later re-phrased and pledged to her “I`ll always be honest with u, be honest with me, even if ure being honest means u r telling me that ure leaving.”

“My heart is lived in” he murmured, so softly that for a second she wondered if he was speaking English “People have come and gone, some didn’t close the door.” It was English but it was also the language that a waterfall speaks, the rhythm of crystal bridges, the accent of the birds.

“I just want a cigarette and a love song” the words spilled forth like a glass of red wine dropped on white marble floor, spreading out with fingers of passion but not sinking in. never knew the root of his sadness, how could he explain. He had walked alone but never really believed it, she had shown him things that he had never seen and he had allowed her to feel emotions she didn’t believe existed anymore or that she had closed away in the wax prison of her heart.

He could spell her name from the footprints in his soul, he could write her name with the ashes of dead poets and he would, he knew he would.

For his eyes she was the last stop on his present journey, his final hand in this game, the last performance on this tour. He tried to speak with his eyes but they were too dark to show anything tonight, they merely reflected hers. He tried to sing to her through a kiss but her lips were not ready to understand him tonight. He tried to shout at her through whispers but she just drew harder on her cigarette.

Then she lit his cigarette, the flame echoing in her eyes. She whispered “My heart is lived in as well...my soul has footprints that make me cry...my head spins and i`d die if I sat to think about it all.”

Her eyes were like a capodimonte masterpiece found on a dirty platform at the train station, shining with artisan brilliance through the dusty darkness that surrounds. We must look forward at the sunrise and not cry tears for the sunset of last dusk. To die because of you’re past, because of past pains, distant memories that are like fresh wounds but are only ever blood stains. That isn’t the way surely.

Her voice was like a sicilian sunrise to him...he looked at her as a returning son would view their mothers house after so long away.

“Come...Move close...”

He just needed to hold her, to hide themselves away, he always needed to hide to protect. “Here, the doors closed and I’ve locked it. I’ve locked it.”