Author: a discordant combination PM
The veins of the city connect us all, they tie knots around our lies and deceit, and they dance around our love and laughter.Rated: Fiction K+ - English - Romance/Mystery - Words: 408 - Reviews: 1 - Favs: 1 - Follows: 1 - Published: 01-05-13 - Status: Complete - id: 3089410
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
The veins of the city connect us all, they tie knots around our lies and deceit, and they dance around our love and laughter. That invisible glue, the laces on your shoes, the veins under your skin—all underappreciated connecters. These connections that flow through the city are something different. Let us wonder the city, together let us explore in the dark, and let us dance. But you shake your head, you laugh at me, stood at the table where we used to sit and talk all night. Sometimes you look so broken but I cannot fix you. You are watching the ghosts who once sat in these chairs like us. The lovers, the children, the siblings, and the parents. Two humans crying on each other's shoulders. It's not like I can fix you, it's not like I believe in everlasting love. Now days, those days, every day, love is something that comes and goes, no matter how hard I cling to us. I love you now and you love me now and so we cannot hold each other down. For now, can we just be happy? For now, can we just dance? You smile and me and shake your head, slowly, languid, like you are moving through water. The city is calling to me as I kiss your chapped, familiar lips. I love you, I love you, and I love you. Whispers and kisses we share before you settle down with a book to wait for my return. You paint all the shades of the night sky into your kisses and sometimes I feel lost in the clouds.
Alone, I dance. A gift to the city is every spin, every laugh, and every kiss. But they are not kisses we share. They are kisses I dream and imagine and wait for. I wait for you like you wait for me, with the deep sense of knowing. Love doesn't last forever, we won't last forever, but our forever is worth fighting for. The veins are vines; the vines are veins, interlinked carelessly. The veins are a comfort, an apology for my lack of fairy tale end, a song in the wind, a hand to wrap around my wrist and pull me in the right direction. The right direction can be anyway, where ever the world feels like taking me. Is it coincidence, is it fate?
I am always pulled back to you. You are the heart of my veins.