He stood in the rain for a very long time, unfocused and distant. It was a dark day, and cold. The way his wet clothes clung heavily to his skin made everything seem that much worse. He tilted his head back and exhaled, watching the warmth leave his body and fade into the frozen air. The skies offered no other comfort.
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I think I could write a modern fairytale from the stories in my mind that form with the people and places I've encountered, even though sometimes the words fade when I try to focus on them. The story of my friend and lover. Of me. But mostly of Cody and Mik, who catch hell for a love so few understand and so many hate. The story of a dirty city and a child of Hollywood. Of skyscrapers and deep nights spent in coffee shops. The story of everything and nothing, told through and for everyone but the person who inspired it.
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He doesn't talk to me much anymore about the things that really matter. About how when he closes his eyes he doesn't see the shadows or the light like I do. About how he doesn't feel pain or pleasure. He won't talk to me, but I'm the only one who can help.
________
In sleep and dreams we are not always together, but we are never apart.
________
And.. That's it for now. Just stupid scribbles, really. But I have very little to say.
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