Wreck.
Staring out the window, the sky is gray and covered with clouds. There's a warmth in the air. A warmth that's not natural for this time of year. It makes me feel. There's a breeze in the air, a soft, gentle breeze that's a constant. It brings me warmth. The leaves are falling from the sky like rain. Red, Yellow, Orange drops. Covering the ground. Soaking it with color. In the windows of the neighboring building, I see the reflection of an airplane flying over head. It does look like rain. I'm scared. I'm sick. I'm a wreck. Stark words are burning in my throat, lurching forward like vommit, I can feel the bile and acid. It hurts, but I move on. Everything I ever wanted to say to you has sat safely in my stomach. And every memory that we had ever made together has sat perfectly in my mind. I wanted to show you a smile, but I was too weak. I wanted you to know how much I needed this, but I was too scared. Again, I move on. Keeping it bottled up inside has always seemed like the safest bet. Untouchable by the outside world. Untouchable by you. Remember when we carved our names into the side of that cedar tree. We said it would be there forever, it would be permanent, just like us. Remember when we would lay in the grass and star at the stars. You said to me, "If you were a star that wasn't expected back in the universe for a thousand years, I'd wait for you. If you were the sky and everyone went inside when you got sad and started to rain. I'd stay. And if you were a peach and the world decided to get rid of all peaches, I'd pick you up and put you in my pocket and keep you." I now lay under this empty sky alone. Tonight, I don't even have the stars. I need to confide in something, anything, but my mouth is full of dust. I can't even utter a simple word, the words that are now spreading like cancer throughout my body. It's in me like a disease and I want it out. I want salvation. I want you to hold me tightly as if I were a kite that was blowing away in the wind.