Sunset was fading. I heard you draw the curtain and open the window. You wanted the remaining time of light linger to your closed eyes. You push the air between you and its effect back and forth. I can almost see you from the other room laying back on the couch, letting it seep through your body. I can tell the drill by memory even if I’m not sitting next to you. It has become a recurrent pattern that adorns the house. You seek to hear bird wings in the density of the air while the shape of the skyline affirms where they’ve gone as soon as you’ve opened your eyes. They’ve mated with parachutes to fight the gravity that keeps pulling us down. I know about it because I was trying to stitch a plain seam with right sides together on my canopy when you found me. The hole was as big as my heart.

The fixed rhythm of your wings around me has drawn a partiture on my chute. You breathed the music in me. Sometimes, it falls gently into the night, like single piano notes when you roll over in bed to reach for my hand in the dark. Sometimes, it is an orchestra with a mixture of hisses, squeaks, roars, gasps, and puffs when I long to hear you keys on the door. At other times, songs are made with shoelaces, when our slamming doors have no one else to blame. Every so often, it is a belter on a vast stage, performing an anthem whose lyrics were written, by the condescending sneer I gave to my fears, the moment I knew you were staying. Βut mostly it is a choir of angels led by a generous God I didn’t know ever existed. Every prayer accepted. Every wish shared.

Τhey taught you how to sing our surroundings. The ones you painted blue. I look up and see different kinds of hue holding what I knew between green and violet hostage and I hear a sound cradled through the wind. The sound of life.

I look down and I see my distance from the starting point. If my eyes could speak they would give you all the traces of the ocean’s bottom. I dive, swim, float, swerve between the blue yonder and the profoundness of salt water without giving it even a little attention. I don’t have to. Wherever I look you have my back. In front of me are my dangling feet, hanging from the window frame, wondering if I will ever reach the floor with the an easy-going yearning for more. Carefree and leisurely my body feels lighter as you stroke my hair and look into my eyes with unfailing musicality. And now I can’t get enough. Underneath my flesh I communicate with the verses your fingers delve into my existence. Deep inside my lungs they give voice to the lyrical soprano who attempts to fit in his voice our size. And I want it all.

It can be adapted to your whispers in my ear which pass on to the world through speakers in blue shading. As, we lighten up the bodies of the universe, as we give them life with our chorus on their lips, as we become the rhythm of their beating hearts, they can’t help but wonder, when they will find somebody tο die for now that they have discovered how truly living in the sky looks like.

Author: Pepi Naki

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