A Beloved Company

By: Darth Sakura

He looked up in the sky, and noticed her friend was again not there.

In a sigh of sluggish waves, he stared at his empty dark skin with slightly starry dots. It was one of those days, he realized, his dear friend would not spend the night with him.

He cherished his friend; her smiling cerulean spark would always cheer up his soggy hands. It would make them trace faster, passionately, and with care the soft sand beneath him.

He treasured, like the rainbow corals of his bones, to watch her dance in one of her many gowns, reflecting the state she was in. Her dazzling silhouette making permanent blues on his mind.

In her all silvery white ball gown she would smile, while moving her right and left feet in a slow waltz through the glittery floor. Her stylish movements make her gray skin get a pallid halo that made her unique and magical.

In her half black-half white gown, she would dance a loving measured tango. Her partner would be sometimes the sensual clouds, which would, every now and then between the steps, caress her delicate dress and skin making her giggle in sapphire afterglow.

Or when she wears her black negligee. In those moments she wants to be alone, and dance with her mourning heart a ballet so deep the stars would shed sparkling tears.

Of course his friend would sometimes be in the mood to do different things in the mysterious night. Sometimes she would get her other partner to dance with her, a beautiful scene in which she would block his feverish and clumsy movements with her robes, or his lighting hair would cover her soft skin with fiery kisses.

There were times, he thought, when she wanted to dance alone and try different dresses. Sometimes her dresses were as red and luminous as her awkward partner in the sky. These days she would inspire all creatures to admire her, to watch her dance her melodically tap across the loving heavens. She would smile at them, wave, and continue dancing with the full intention of keeping their stares the whole night, and sometimes managing it.

Of course this night, he noticed in his slow movements up and down the beach, he would not be able to observe his dear friend. It was those kind of nights when she wanted to be left alone, and mourn for whatever consumes her heart with despicable grief. He has noticed, even thought her face is as jovial and sweet as her dancing clothes, there are times in her steps were she taps sorrow and waltz shame.

For what, he does not know. The answers are as unreachable as the sky above.

He hopes tomorrow he can watch her dance again. His skin aches for her reflection of silver light and dance movements. She gives him reasons to move with feverish enthusiasm in high tides he never though he was able to.

Her stare gives him such a diversity of dark colors, and makes his bluish veins to run faster and wild.

They would usually talk in the long reflections of the night, smile at each other and say goodbye when it is her time to leave and for their other friend to come. He enjoys his friend’s warm company. It makes his body grow warm and his skin reflects such reddish colors he can feel himself blush.

But he enjoys her presence even more.

My dear friend, he thinks, it is a pity I could not see you tonight. Sighing once more, he writes with less eagerness in the glittery sand. He was looking forward to seeing her, but she did not come.

Smiling at the new dawn, he waits for his friend to warm his cold body again. There is always tomorrow.

He looks up the sky one last time, smiles, and waits for the moment he would see her again.