“Ginge.. you are less than twisted, but definitely worse than cheeky..”
~ My one “true” Aquaintance
I had been staring into the abyss for quite some time. Possibly, probably, awaiting the moment that the shadows would stir and something mischevious would stare back. Novel, but alas, it never seems to be the breath necessary.
I always forget that part. Breathing. Mundane, but is it? Often I find myself holding on to it for no other reason than the habitual diversity of function seems to have left me. Lost, so thoroughly, in whatever bliss was whirling tenderly along the lining of a mind cast aside; forgotten.
Those words were an awakening, and even though there was no sound that could be heard, I believe it was felt like a shiver in the air between us. Laughter. Something completely devilish, chaotic, and heard so often in the silence of batted lashes that he expresses from time to time his own madness; unsure which is real.
I know absolutely nothing about him, nor he I. Friendship is the least of what I would refer to silence as. Mutual glances from time to time over the flow of something red, and flavorful.. a hinderance that is tasted fruitfully. He breathes for me, and in moments, the film of mist shifts and the darkness settles as always around us. Worn, carefully, without the touch of disdain so many fail to notice. Too many lay eyes up on flesh or hands upon the eyes in meaning to grasp at one or another; there is never either. There is space. Clarity. A hush that is desired, until, at the emptiness of the last swept motion of need it’s simply gone.
He leaves me alone.
That earns my presence.
For the sake of this arrangement; I do so hope mutiny remains behind his tongue.
I have such little interest in the sound of lies.