Cherry Sweat

I'm wondering how the starlight black of my eyes will compare to the white shell of your skin as I tell you this news I have rushing in my belly, trying to reach out to the bright light of your smile and shed it's conscious on your awaiting ears and prance between your eyes. I'm thinking of how you will spill out of your body and into a forgotten abyss, floating at times, sinking at others, still burying down into the fibers of things unspoken and unwritten. It's not bad news, I assure those prickly nerves crawling up your spine, but there's a teensy tiny chance that you'll get uncomfortable, a chance that you're gonna want to get away and leave the scene, it's okay, I understand. When I found out myself, there was a heaviness that draped itself invitingly around my shoulders, weaving doubtful threads of blue and gray around my eyes, making it hard to see the path before me, shielding the stares as it grows inside, making something unique but at the very same time frightening. I can see it now, you're ribs are shaking and getting ready to crack apart as you claw your body out of the abyss to enter my space, ready to share those top secret tears as I get ready to share this news. 

Oh, you're back, I whisper in a scream. 

No, never, but I am here. 

Okay. It's going to be okay. Just the way the dinosaurs were okay when the fireball hit the earth, it'll change things, but there's a future and hey, we'll plastic wrap the past, bring it out from time to time to feast our memories on things that were silly but perfect. 

What are you doing?

I'm living.

Oh. You were always silly.

I didn't want to alarm you with the surrounding normality. 

You wouldn't have. 

I'm thankful.

What shall we do?

We...will browse. Browse through everything that can possibly be browsed. It'll be a wonderful ride, something new to get these young dry bones a chance to get up and dance.

Are you going to tell me what or are you going to keep wandering off topic? 

I was always a wanderer. That's what I do. 

So that's a no?

Ask me again in a few months. 

I ran out of time, but I mostly ran out of courage. That boy/man of my dreams stole every bit out of me. There's a shield of brokenness encasing me, moving as I'm moving like a second skin. This news can wait a few more months, becoming rainbows and nothing, and should I even bother? It will be the utmost wonder becoming reality, bursting my seams and springing free to desperately wake the confusion engulfing my loved ones dreams. So I say: ask me again in a few months. I'll be ready and steady then.