am i a part of the cure?
current mood: mellow
current song: coldplay - clocks
Mars and I had a late-night whispered conversation a few days ago. He was red, twinkling in a glowing navy-black sky and I was a pale shade of flickering blue, hiding behind curtains hoping to catch a falling star. We waited together, speaking in rhymes of heartache and fairy tales, my eyes upwards and his eyes down.
And just as the pain in my legs was too much, just as I was ready to say goodnight, a moon-bright star fell past the shadow-trees and deep into the forest. And this, this was the most magical, most dazzling thing I had ever seen. It was more than a streak of pale-white on a dark star-speckled sky; it was a ball of white fire burning from the inside out, it was an incandescent diamond tumbling for the horizon. It left an imprint brighter and bigger than most shooting stars; it left an echo on my dream-filled mind.
I gasped and Mars smiled. I sat back, drew my fingers to my lips and wondered how something so beautiful could be made of space rock, how something so surreal, so movielike, could flash before my eyes. How could that moment be mine? How could I ever dream that I would not only capture a falling star, would not only whisper to Mars and find fireflies in the heavy heat of August, but capture a fireball?
It was like a wish magnified and wondered if maybe, maybe if I believed, that if I wish on this particular shooting star, a silver fireball all my own, if would come true. Because that moment, it really did feel like magic. In that blue room, with the red light of Mars fluttering above, it felt like magic.