“The sky’s blue still manifests through darkness. Under the moon’s fullness, what constellation’s in sight?” The girl whispered into the distant twilight, charmed by her lover as her heart soared in flight. The gentle breeze tickled her skin. Bats and bees in air, or sleeping within. Her partner broke through the rose-covered glaze, chuckled in the night.
“Your eyes outshine all the stars I can see,” he noted casually, setting her life ablaze like the unearthing of a flower. She turned towards him, feeling his eyes on her as they stared at each other, blind underneath the night sky. Suddenly, the night no longer felt cold.
“Chocolate?” the girl playfully suggested, plucking a blue packet of sweetness from her blue jacket.
The boy amusingly opened the box and placed the square of perfection between his teeth. He leaned in, hovering just above the now timid girl. Why was the night so loud now? She saw his eyebrows tighten as he encouraged her covertly. Determined despite her fear, she bit a corner off before shyly turning away, ears ringing. The boy laughed, causing the cold to feel like a warm embrace.
“Why so shy?” The boy inquired, finishing the last few bites of the sweet.
“It’s embarrassing…” the girl muttered, slowly walking towards the boy to feel the warmth of his body.
He returned the embrace gladly, holding her like a fragile glass piece, swaying slowly as the two shared an intimate, wordless exchange. She looked up as her nose met the bottom of his chin. Her eyes smiled for her as she kissed him softly, hands clutching onto him as the coldness settled into familiarity. He held her cheek, gently holding onto her body as he deepened the kiss, feelings flowing through the pair while the stars shined above. Cars flew by as sound disappeared in the moment, only to return when the two sought air. Cozy giggles contrasted the night as the two held each other, eyes conveying affection akin to the earth’s gravitational pull to the moon.
It continued like this as the calendar pages piled in the trash. Sunrises turned into sunsets, and months felt like mere seconds in the darkness—two lovers and their secret meetings, blissfully naive and unaware. The sky looked red through their glasses. The movie’s timeline moved faster with each passing moment. The window became the gateway to her heart, each day opening at different times to let in the accompanying warmth of a breeze as her lover would greet her with a smile. Oh, the smile that could soothe all wounds. The smile that showed her what those three words meant. The smile that showed her what those four letters meant. The smile that could only enter through that forbidden opening of the window, for her guardians were unsuspecting. But, oh, she would murder stars for that smile. She would do anything for him, even open the window to her heart.
As each moment grew more intense, sacred times deserving of picture frames would be shared between the two. Each is welcomed by the opening of the window—the window that deteriorates with each said opening. Every peck, every embrace, every cuddle shared could only exist after the opening was created. Each memorable second, each wholesome feeling shared, and each wound healed in the soul, could only be done through the opening made. All attachments, all bonds, and all intricacies conveyed could only exist with the window’s permission. She could have never imagined such joy existed within the world, within her. She had never trusted another’s soul, never felt understood on the level that nature understood its plants, never hoped for the sun’s setting instead of the sun’s rise. But now, she knew the next day would arise bright and anew.
She shed tears shed behind the transparent crystal walls. Tears that had first seen another’s face witnessing them as they flowed to the ground, staining the floor with a puddle as clear as the display of her pain. What more trust could one put in another than to let them see how blue the sky really is? Every ache and every joy was another set of memories made.
Oh, how the memories did make her so fond. But memories are the past. A flower could never bloom again after its death.
On the last full moon, she had smiled under the stars. This full moon, she cries.
A feeling so feared it was banned, a day hard to understand. The sixth day of August was all unplanned. Water flowed as freely as rivers while whimpers and wails penetrated her home after the phone silenced. The transparent windows became foggy for the first time. Her heart was smashed in like the breaking of a mirror, and scattered pieces lay exhausted on the battlefield, defeated. Scattered pieces lay bloody, mistreated.
Shall we return back to the happier days?
Rewind to that breeze that could join those two lovers as they embraced each other, drifting to dreams till the sun rose again the following day. Repeat back when the breeze needs no cracks to pass through.
From the sixth day of summer forward, the window was closed by him.
