Under the Umbrella

The air was humid and stale and empty under the canopy of red he held up to protect him from the rain.  All around him were personal tents of various shapes and sizes and colors.  It was a zoo of pattern.  A few steps ahead, he saw an empty space and wondered how it could fail to be populated with a nylon roof.  His eyes fell to the spot again as he trudged on.  Now though, there were sopping, blonde curls and shivering, hoodie covered shoulders.  Without a second thought, he scooped the stranger under the umbrella with him and tucked her to his side.

"You'll catch a cold running around like that!  I'm Jake."  He beamed down at her with bright grey eyes and a crooked smile.
"Oh!  My umbrella broke.  Thanks."  She stuttered, his sudden closeness unnerving her.

Earlier, before the wind had ripped her shelter apart, she had thought about how safe it was beneath the canopy.  Safely sheltered away from danger with sound muffled and the wold narrowed down, she liked the solidarity of her umbrella.  Her arm brushed his.  Suddenly, even though there was less room, and both of them were getting a rained on a little more, the lightning seemed to have found it's way beneath the umbrella, crackling between them with every matched step.

"I'm Tess."  She said.

The sound of her small, bright voice felt like a crack of electricity straight through his chest.  He shot her another crooked smile and managed to inch a little closer to her inside their shelter.  Soon, the only storm either of them felt was the intensity of silence, full of potential, underneath the umbrella.

A Dance on Olympus

A rainbow of colored skirts swirl around me.  Effortless.  Gliding.  Elegant.  Genteel.
I stand, un-moving.  Ignored.  Unfeeling.
They are a whirl of jewel tones and glitter and laughter and ease.
I am in black and unadorned and grimacing.
The light here sparkles in an unnatural way, glistening off every shinning surface as though Apollo himself were in the room.
I am not used to such opulence, such wealth, such audacity.
Daughters of Aphrodite twirl with sultry smiles and beauty so fine it seems poisonous.
But the Sons of Eros are unafraid; equally as resplendent and a deadly kind of suave.
This is no place for a child of Hermes, the child of a messenger.
A godly servant to the greater gods.
I am all thought and help and creativity and words.
While these beings bathe in refinement and breathe glamour and sleep on pillows of nobility.
I slip through the Olympian ballroom, afraid I've overstayed my welcome, wondering why I thought I could glide among the angels here.

Fragile Stupidity

The fragility and stupidity of the heart amazes me.

The way it aches and reaches for the poison that destroyed it.

Ripped apart and in tatters, it still pounds for the hands that tore it up.

For the love who broke it.

For the friends who betrayed it.

For all of the faces that turned their backs.

The problem with me, is that my heart is in my mind and my mind in my heart.

They can't be separated.

I can't ignore one and trust the other.

Reason lies intermingled with feeling.

Hope with probability.

There is no feeling without reason for me.

No thought without emotion.

I am all or nothing.

I am either too little or too much of both.

And my heart is as fragile and stupid as all the others.

Brown Car

The brown car passed, casting a hook into her heart and dragging her behind.
It was impossible not to remember.
Impossible to breathe as the memories crushed her.
Like the weight of the ocean was bearing down on her, forcing her to think, to replay, to remember.
Their faces flashed in her mind as the brown car passed.
It drew her eye in the rear view.
Even though it wasn't them, she couldn't look away.
She couldn't stop the voices in her head, screaming that it was her fault.
The license plate started to shrink, ripping the hook from her flesh, leaving her bleeding and gasping for air.
She reached for the radio dial, like the music would be an invisible tourniquet for her wound.
It wasn't.
It just dulled her senses enough to make the thoughts slow down.
And the brown car, that was nothing more than a car, took a piece of her sanity with it down the road.

City Bats

Where do city bats go when the sun comes up?
Where is their refuge when the night retreats?
Do they fly to the country and find shade in the trees?
Do they take off to the horizon, chasing the darkness?

I wish I had the wings of a city bat.
I wish I could fly after the moon, the safety of the darkness.
I wish I could soar between streetlights and over dim backyards.
I wish I knew where they hit from the daylight.

Away from the burning sun.
Away from clarity.
Into Darkness.
Into dusk.

Where do the city bats go when the sun comes up?
I'd like to go there too.

The Sailor and The Storm

She looked into the horizon and her heart stalled in her chest.  He was back, bringing with him the usual storm.  It had been a while since he had rained down on, nearly drowning her.

That day, she floated unconscious in the sea until a kind sailor came to her aid.  He scooped her up and asked no questions and took her far away.  He made her healthy again, in the shade on a sandy island.  There, they were all the other needed.

She had almost forgotten the boy with the storm.  She had prayed he's never find her.  She didn't want the sailor asking questions.  She just wanted to live happy, and free from the clouds.

As the grey clouds gathered, and the storm came closer, she remembered the joy she felt, dancing in the rain.  But she was smarter now.  And she knew that it was all temporary joy, and she'd have to live with a cold for another month.  So as the storm drew near, she fought her instincts, and stayed inside, watching the clouds from behind clear glass.

He stopped on the shore.  Like her knew what she'd done, the life she had chosen.  In the wind, he howled his disapproval, but he couldn't shake her resolve.  She was warm, safe, and dry, snuggled up in the cabin just within the tree line.

His storm raged on for days, demanding her presence.  But when it was clear that she'd never come back, he started to fade.  Soon the sky turned from black into grey.  And after a day or so, grey faded to blue.  Before she knew it, she had forgotten there was a storm at all, distracted by the sanctuary of her peaceful island home.

Never Swimming

If I am a hurricane,
He's a natural disaster.

If I feel broken,
He must surely feel shattered.

Nothing is safe with us.
Not me.
Not him.
Not anyone else.

There is no equality,
balance.
We're constantly battling to be on top.

Nothing is sweet.
It's all tears and poison.
Addiction to the mess.

We're never swimming,
Always drowning,
Pushing each other under,
for one breath of air.

The Sunshine

There was something otherworldly about her.
Something dark that only added to her strange beauty.

No one understood her ways.
That was okay.
She didn't need to be understood.
She just wanted to be seen.

And see her he did.  That lonely Prince.

He saw her and he knew they were the same.

So he whisked her away to a twisted kind of fairy tale life
 where their darkness played well together
and she could feel the sunshine.