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Description
Silently, dawn slipped like silk over the landscape. It softly illuminated the hills' sensuous curves, shedding a calm I had never felt before. The temperature turned me translucent. Time made my skin transparent and I tetered on the edge of oblivion, tenaciously clinging to my last illusions of reality as they ticked past. Underneath it all was the beauty. It understood me; completely, utterly. Under my skin, the calm undulated through me, unseen, unheard, but it was felt. I had unearthed the feeling in the morning light and now it could not be undermined by anything but the rush of the life I had escaped.

Violence had been left behind. The violence and the volitile feelings of my existance. Out here is was like the vaccuum of space; no sound penetrated, no incontentment. The valleys were still soft pockets of darkness, a subtle reminder of the vermin that lurked back in the city. We were all trapped when we lived there, wasting our lives on the whimsical search for something worthwhile. I always wanted to be wanted, but the walls I put up around myself, the walls of the city, always stopped me from finding the warrior who would be willing to fight for me. Xylophone thoughts pulsed like X-rays through my skull, erradicating the constant glow of exit signs and glowing excitement from a thousand disillusioned souls. Extistentiality meant nothing here, I needed only to be, to exist in my purest form.

Yellow rays of the sun finally peeked over the edge of the horizon. The dawn's silky yarn began to turn to fleece as the birds started to yell. Yet the chill still remained in my bones, a yearning for when the day was still younger, when we were younger and when you used to be here by my side. That was years ago, but it seems only like yesterday is only just over the yonder, a place of sleepy yawns and snuggly smiles. Zebra stripes colour my skin from the trees that stand in front of me. Remember when we used to colour over the shade with markers? We'd go home and pretend that they were some zany new kind of tattoo. We'd run laughing through the zoo and pose by the real zebras, zealous enough in our impersonation that the kids would point and whisper as their parents smiled about how beautiful we were at our young age. But over time we lost our zest and now I am laying on this hill alone, under the same trees, trying to think of alliteration for the last letter of the alphabet.

I miss you.

Description
Silently, dawn slipped like silk over the landscape. It softly illuminated the hills' sensuous curves, shedding a calm I had never felt before. The temperature turned me translucent. Time made my skin transparent and I tetered on the edge of oblivion, tenaciously clinging to my last illusions of reality as they ticked past. Underneath it all was the beauty. It understood me; completely, utterly. Under my skin, the calm undulated through me, unseen, unheard, but it was felt. I had unearthed the feeling in the morning light and now it could not be undermined by anything but the rush of the life I had escaped.

Violence had been left behind. The violence and the volitile feelings of my existance. Out here is was like the vaccuum of space; no sound penetrated, no incontentment. The valleys were still soft pockets of darkness, a subtle reminder of the vermin that lurked back in the city. We were all trapped when we lived there, wasting our lives on the whimsical search for something worthwhile. I always wanted to be wanted, but the walls I put up around myself, the walls of the city, always stopped me from finding the warrior who would be willing to fight for me. Xylophone thoughts pulsed like X-rays through my skull, erradicating the constant glow of exit signs and glowing excitement from a thousand disillusioned souls. Extistentiality meant nothing here, I needed only to be, to exist in my purest form.

Yellow rays of the sun finally peeked over the edge of the horizon. The dawn's silky yarn began to turn to fleece as the birds started to yell. Yet the chill still remained in my bones, a yearning for when the day was still younger, when we were younger and when you used to be here by my side. That was years ago, but it seems only like yesterday is only just over the yonder, a place of sleepy yawns and snuggly smiles. Zebra stripes colour my skin from the trees that stand in front of me. Remember when we used to colour over the shade with markers? We'd go home and pretend that they were some zany new kind of tattoo. We'd run laughing through the zoo and pose by the real zebras, zealous enough in our impersonation that the kids would point and whisper as their parents smiled about how beautiful we were at our young age. But over time we lost our zest and now I am laying on this hill alone, under the same trees, trying to think of alliteration for the last letter of the alphabet.

I miss you.