I am telling you, so;

What do you want to tell them?

 There are times when, reaching for you, my hand trembles. I am telling you this, because it's important that you realize that I am not stone. Hardly.
    I am a fragile shell, spiralling down into depths unexplored, hiding my secrets behind breath-pink walls and buried beneath the sand. I am a small, softly spoken word, whispered into warm skin and mumbled as you roll over in your sleep. I am the fragment of thought that rolls across your mind as you wake up.
    I just want to be alone with you.
    Touch my lips; kiss my forehead; brush my cheek against yours. My proud, detached exterior will meet you, hesitant, pulled to earth by your warmth. My cryptic laughter will fade and blend into our entwining heartbeats. Teach me how to let myself love again. Don't allow me to pull away in fear. Listen to me! I--I, the floating harlequin girl, the intangible, elusive summer rain--am asking you for help. Listen to me...
     I just want to be alone with you.
     Sing me songs about love and life and driving across the midwest in cars filled with guitar music. Sing me songs about the way I look in the moonlight, red-brown curls rimed silver, stretched out across your sheets with my chest rising in rythm to your melody. Sing me songs about my green eyes, glowing mischievously, snapping with base, earthy rage, sparkling and glinting with laughter. Sing that you love me.
      I just want to be alone with you.
      I just want to be alone with you.
    

The End

0 comments about this story Feed