Breathtaking as always.
The sun began to touch the world below.My world.
Light rain glistened off familiar surfaces.
Everything felt more kinder. Warm.
Birds woke then intertwined in the distance.
Early traffic appeared in between shadows of nearby buildings.
Unafraid, I looked back.
Happiness stood by me.
I turned again towards my world and beyond laid a future of possibilities. I hope it will never disappear.
‘reemmebr yuor dmraes’ I heard a whisper in the winds.
‘It’s okay’ Another said behind me, a musky scent emanated.
Barely aware of a passing morning breeze and its chilling presence, his hands intertwine with my own.
His perspiring palms revealed his eagerness to comfort and settle my watering eyes.
It was then that I realized I was balancing upon what was the dividing the rest of the world and ours. The balcony.
Memories seeped in and I had remembered. A choice had to be made.
He remained and always has been; a sculpted god, perfect yet imaginary.
I have many a time accepted this being as an actuality.
Forgetting, the flaws I fell in love with, whereby replacing them with possibly impossible charms.
For a long while, ignorance kept me in a state of bliss. Yet it was neither the happiness I sought or the love I longed for.
I glanced to a side to view a reflection of my world. Warm. Realistic. Truthful. Risk.
I fondly examined the familiar jaw line, he was always so fond of, and the eyes that pleaded for my presence in what has been our world.
His eyes began to water until a state much like my own. He knew my decision before I knew it myself. We smiled.
He pushed me. I let go. I fell from my heaven, our world, to a world of unpredictable possibilities.
I saw the golden world below and its shadows. It seemed closer.
My youngest brother (26), D. Spirit, is someone who I believe to be a natural poet, lovey-dovey at times, spiritual and better than me at English.
He read this and ‘clap’ was his initial response on msn.
He commented later on about the use of the same word in close proximity (a few sentences apart), was the only thing I needed to improve on this.
He also said that there were three levels of english writing;
- Writings that just describes.
- Writing that describes and means.
- Writing that is has profound meaning, that makes you think. ‘what can that mean? Possibly even teach you something.
He said I have written using the second stage. Do not know if this will help me with more analytical writing in my last year of high school.
At least now I know one of my strengths.