She blew smoke in my eyes and smiled. It was a sort of teasing sensation, saying something like that. We were in a park, just talking, being close, being real. It was a strange feeling, to have something so solid in my life to grasp onto, so real, so dependable. I could taste her on my tongue whenever I thought of her, and I could feel her heart beating whenever I touched her, a sign that told me, "I'm still going, I guess you've got to, as well". Something solid... I guess that's what it's all about then, isn't it? Someone who can make you feel like there's nothing else worth anything. And at the end of the day, I guess nothing else is worth anything, is it?
She liked to tease me I guess. She was lying on her stomach, idly blowing smoke around whenever she put the cigarette to her lips. Like a dragon, in her own ways. She was certainly as volatile as one. I guess that's one more thing that made her real, solid, true, mine. There was a danger in that, but also a stifling security. And her lying there, looking at me in a casual yet penetrating way, smiling her evil, wry smirk like there was some joke going on that no one else knew about floating around in her mind, it seemed to me that this moment would, should, deserved to last forever. Let that ash balancing on the tip of her cigarette, waiting for the slightest breeze to come along and blow it away, let it say thereforever, dancing it fragile, pathetic, sublime, perfect dance.
She had hair in her face. God I loved that look. It was hair that had accidentally come down and fallen in her eyes, accidental, imperfect, yet real, which made it more perfect. She had her legs bent at the knees, idly sticking up in the air, with small feel looking delicate and distant. I was leaning against a tree, legs spead out in front of me. I had no idea what she saw in me, all I knew, all that mattered, is that she was here, and so was I.
And I guess it would never be better than this moment. Nothing ever needed to be better. It wasn't so much a pinnacle to a lifetime, but a subtle peak, which could be looked back at and in the years to come and smile about.
I guess there was a bitterness in that realisation too, that notion that it could only go downhill from here. It's like looking out from the highest peak in the world, and seeing the most beautiful view imaginable. And knowing there was know way down, except a long fall to your death.
The notion that someone like myself deserved something, someone, a moment so perfect, was like a bad joke. And thinking I deserved it, or that I could keep something like it, was just me kidding myself. I guess there was nothing in life I wanted more than something real. And I guess I never expected my dreams of reality would ever be a reality. It felt like a high, knowing that eventually I would have to come down. But it's best not to think about that.
And I was going to lean over and kiss her, or at least give her some sign that I knew that it might not get any better, but at least the moment was real. But I just looked at her with my insane eyes and similar wry, infectious smile, and I think she just might have known what I intended to get across. And I closed my eyes and leant my head back against the tree, trying not to notice that the ash had fallen from her cigarette, and was scattered in the breeze, forgotten.