– Conversation and Midnight Revelation –

On the edge of the reservoir where he sits admiring, he sees her sitting in her glimmering seat, beckoning to him. He has to shield his eyes from the shimmering light. His hands burn from the reflected glare.
Nothing has shone to him in this way before.

Hello beautiful Angel.
Have you come to take me to the After Here?

She smiles that shifty eyed smile. And with electric lips she speaks within his mind.

Yes…where you will live as if you had never breathed the air of earth, and instead breathe the ethereal essence of love.

“And so it is
The shorter story
No love, no glory
No hero in her sky”

Her mouth moves
Four lines of my soul

There’s a new sky every new day though…
I want to be listening to what you’re listening to.

Is that in my music?
It should be.

Starry night and campfire light.
Both stand out against the rest of the faded backdrop of trees and tents.
An ember pops and jumps from the wood within the fire ring.  Laughter slowly melts into the memory.

To be sure, this is just a memory.

The steel rails underneath the worn fingertips and the white linen of the bed sheets are a mirage of reality, a sunset in the distance that never quite dips below the horizon.  He is racked by his unrelenting mind which keeps him from accepting his fate. It teems with incessant thoughts of days before and steals his now.
The memories, though, they hold tight to the backs of his eyes, demanding to be seen; this celluloid dream.

Acrid smoke lofting through.  No matter where he sits, it finds him too, like the waves find the shores.
The whisky warmth fends off the midnight breeze.  And the hooded sweatshirt helps. His voice carries above the others. They listen to him above each other.
He doesn’t realize it yet, but they look up to him.  Even those with more rings on their tree.

This is about you.
She recognizes his detriment.

The Cryptic Angel says to him

I love you
Your’e brilliant

His heart sets ablaze
Don’t make me cry…. seriously.

…and I see you
truly…. you. are. gifted. the end

He means it more than anything he’s ever said:
I need you Angel.

She knows.
I know
she says.

Always aware of his footprints in the undergrowth of the eternal path.
I’m trying to reign things in…

Dont.  Just… BE… whatever happens will happen. You may find it doesn’t satisfy like it used to. I just cant be here while you do.

I know it doesn’t satisfy Angel. I’ve already learned that.

Its not the flirting…

He: It’s the lying.

She: Yes

You’re amazing, to deal with this, Angel.

The sky is the limit with trust.

And this is where the sky opens up above him. It’s something he hasn’t noticed before, something he always thought to be myth and something he never dared to hope for the existence of within the tangible universe that he fell into.

No analyzing, no searching, no mulling it in my mind. No detective work, no wondering… is a dream.

I will prove it to you Angel.

They both know that will not happen. Not right off. But both believe in the unbelievable. Both hope for the hopelessly unreachable and stab into the infinite darkness with fingers prodding for a grip to give some hope, some hope to stave off the slope.

There IS a hero in your sky.

I’ve never had a hero
I’ve always BEEN a heroine.
I am tired of being the heroine.

I’m going to be your hero, even though every hero has his one fault, his one weakness, his Kryptonite, he always ALWAYS overcomes it.
With the help of his maiden fair.

This is a Kryptonite I’m not sure I have the strength to help fight.  I fought it for 12 incredibly long, incredibly horrible, years.

You inspire me to fight it.
He means this with all he is, all he wants to be.
I.
Will.
Not.
Lose.
You.
You’ve read my words. You’ve seen the emotion behind them, within them.
You’ve felt the truth in them.
I’m yours.
I simply have to earn you back Angel.
And, I will.

I am crying

ME TOO.

I’m scared to let you back in but I want to so bad.

That’s the correct response to what has happened baby.
You should be scared.
Because you’re scarred.
But time….

will tell.  She says.

heals.  He corrects.

And we have time.
yes we do
but it will take a lot of time; are you sure you really truly know what you’re doing?

Yes.

Walk away right now if you arent sure because I swear I will never be able to look at you again if you screw with me again.  I am beyond serious.

Nothing in the history of either soul could predict the events that follow, but without hesitation is heart blares in his ears, and bellows from his throat:

I have strong shoulders baby.
I can, and WILL, fight.

You will have to fight.  Because Im too tired to…

And in her slumber she hears him speak.

Rest, Angel.
Fold up your wings.

You’re ridiculous with your perfect words. Stop making me cry goddammit.
I’m supposed to be strong

He truly can not help himself.
Stop *making* the perfect words flow Angel.
You cause an effluence of perfection because you inspire like the greatest muse that Shakespeare ever knew.

I am no muse but I can’t deny what my brain is like when I’m channeled into yours.  Its like I can almost see the electric blue labyrinth of timelessness.

Electric blue…

A higher being doesn’t make sense to me
He admits
but holy fuck if there is one – IT got it right when it put you and I together.

Maybe we are best as midnight inspirations to each other.  These are the perfect moments.  When the world fades into the background and it’s just… us.

It’s always just us Angel, the rest of the world is our fucking playground.
Can you see the electric blue sparks jumping between our lips?

The man who can have sex simply with a kiss.  Never have I felt a mans mouth move on mine like bodies move during sex.

That is the truth of the ages.
When the world explodes and the stars die out, it will be just you and I floating together, lip to lip, finally aware of what it’s all about.

“Been lying, been crying, been prying into my soul – what I’ve found there, without a doubt without you I’m not whole”

I want to hate you.  I do.  It would be so much easier.  But dammit I am connected to you.

The Yin wants to hate the Yang.
But they need one another.

The latter just needs to realize the fault of being an island unto itself and trying to find the happy medium between what it wants and what it needs. In the end, the two are separate, and only one imparts the bliss of simple serenity by being selfless.

It is the fight against fight, the nature v nuture wall that he bashes his head against, instead of just going around. The end and the means are clear, but instinct battles against wit and he feels helpless.

Until those electric lips press and he realizes that, eventually, he’s going to want to, have to, need to, crave to, have no choice to give it all up and realize that the emptiness that he feels enveloping his fog embraced, weight-laden frame is the bleakness that seers his hope for the future…

And she is the soft rain that dampens the flame.

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