She lets you sleep in her lap in a Chelsea Starbucks around noon.
You both are tired travelers like butterflies fresh from the cocoon. Your wings are still wet.
The barista doesn’t mind. So she tells you to go back to sleep. You offer your shoulder as a pillow, it’s her turn now. She declines and instead leads you back into the world.
You see, the thing about having a rain cloud above your head is that it protects you from ultra violent rays and the silver lining can reflect on the New York streets to light the way.
You’re an unruly flame and he’s a forest. Luckily, Chinatown is stone so you’re contained. With just him the world feels cooler. You remind yourself that this is only because he’s what you’re meant to consume. You’re a rogue spark and he’s the woods.
“I think we’re all a little bit fire” you say. He agrees.
You wrap yourself in the moment like a blanket on a cold winters day. The way the ground comforts the roots of a flower. The world feels a little bit smaller and a little bit safer. You wonder if he’s fire because you lit him aflame. How long before he burns out.
“I’m sorry” you whisper. He hates it when you apologize.
You saw her hair bouncing like a ballerina or babbling brook from across the street. She sticks out in the crowded city sidewalk like the highest note in the symphony.
Its been a while and you know it won’t be the same. She wouldn’t know why and you’re not about to tell her that you just can’t look at her the same after your brown eyes fell in love with her brown eyes but both your sparks are relentless and so all four melted. When you woke up there was blood on your face and it wasn’t until you cleaned off the violence that you realized it was only chocolate.
The sky is clear so she hears you when you call her name anyway.
She slowly begins to turn.