Wind

Dracofangxxx's picture

I wanted it to be the wind;
To be free, flowing; the smell of a rainstorm, nipping at my heels
And we would run from it,
hand in hand, smiling,
Laughing
To be a kite, uncatchable, but you
Had my strings all along;

I wanted it to be the wind;
And it would brush up against my sides
Filling my shirt,
A hot-air balloon of smiles,
Make-believe, candy, movies on the couch
hot chocolate and too much whipped cream, rain-covered windowpanes; The condensation, drawn on by
pink fingers in the soft light

I wanted it to be the wind,
The cool air on our flushed faces
Warm scarves and shared gloves;
Tangled, knotty hair and
Smoky dragon breath in the morning light
Pale faces, pale sky

I wanted it to be the wind
But all I got was rain.

Today, I sat on the bus next to a stranger in the back of the bus. His clothes were baggy, his face lax and unexpressive. His eyes were harsh, and he smelled strongly of pot. I wondered how long it had been since he used. His legs, crossed protectively (As were his arms) took up most of the room. I shrugged myself as far away as possible.

Next to me was a girl who reminded me of my sister, a bit overweight with many freckles and a bus-shaking laugh. Her nose was pierced, her swears many and loud. A question, asked; "Did you even go to school today?" and I smirked to myself. Who would skip school? It seems, growing in the back of the bus like a mold nobody wants to see, was a strange crowd I had never been with before. It was scary, and exciting all at once. So different, I see, they are compared to me. Opposites.

Unsafe. Today, in a whole, has been unsafe.