Blue eyes, blue as the sea
Blue eyes that can’t even see
“How’s the sky looking?”
Liraz puffed the smoke from her mouth and looked up, taking in the colors and stars.
“It’s a good night. Color’s a dark, midnight blue.”
“Remember the one blanket we used to have? Same blue, but imagine it speckled with stars.”
Her lipstick was dark, dark red, and the cigar in her hand was almost out. She took a breath of night air before taking another inhale of ashes and smoke, letting her lungs blacken little by little.
Crying tears of silver and gold
Maybe they're getting a little too old
“You do remember that blanket, don’t you?”
August shut his useless eyes, searched his useless memories.
“Getting old Liraz, getting old.”
She laughed, dropping her cigar onto the streets below. She watched it as it fell, falling into a puddle of water and fizzling out completely.
Liraz allowed herself to relax, dangling her legs at the edge of the building.
Could’ve very well been the edge of the world, for all she cared.
A streetlight nearby flickered on and off, illuminating the shops for a couple of seconds every time.
“Used to be my favorite time of day.” August broke the silence with his words momentarily and Liraz brought her eyes to him.
“Yeah. Before I couldn’t see.”
Living in a world of black and grey
Living in this world and being forced to stay
Liraz lay her head on August’s shoulder and sighed.
“It’s a pretty time of day, isn’t it.”
“I wouldn’t know.”
Liraz tried to connect the stars into constellations in her head. A breeze blew by but both of them were unfazed, used to weathers beyond worse, and beyond better.
They’d witnessed everything and nothing, love and hate, war and peace.
“What’s something you’ll never forget the looks of?”
Though they slipped between years without much thought
The string that tied them together was the tightest knot
“You. Your eyes. Your smile. Just you.”
Liraz shrugged off feelings of sadness and brought her fingers to August’s face, tracing his jawline.
Almost as if he wasn’t aware, August didn’t react to the touch.
“Really?” Liraz’s voice was smooth but sharp at the edges.
August brought his own hands and held Liraz’s which were still at his face. He imagined her eyes, once filled with hope, once with sadness, but all of the time enchanting.
At least to him.
Liraz let her hands fall into her lap. Her throat was dry beyond repair.
“Do you think things could’ve been different in another life?”
“Don’t you think we’ve lived enough life?”
“Oh, more than enough.”
It’s why Liraz tried to kill herself from the inside with the rolled-up cigars, it’s why she tried so hard to close her own book, but life never ran out of pages for her.
August’s eyes stared out into the other worlds, but all he really saw was black. Different shades of misery and gloom.
Though their souls are sometimes gloomy
In the darkness, there is beauty
August reached his hand out into the night air as if reaching to touch something. As if there was something to touch. He rotated it slowly. The cuffs of his jacket were worn out much like everything he owned. Worn out, old, and out of style.
Liraz watched curiously as he slowly brought it back to his side.
“What’re you doing?”
“Can’t see. So I’m feeling the air. Trying to absorb the color.”
Liraz picked her head off August’s shoulder.
“You’re crazy, you know that?”
“Am I? I’ve been told that a lot.”
The streetlight completely went out and the only light came from the Gibson moon that seemed to stare Liraz down with it’s craters.
He could not see, but his mind’s eye was enough
To know whether or not the road ahead was tough
“What’s your favorite color?” Liraz asked, staring at the brightest star in her vision. Doing enough staring for both of them.
August let out a dry laugh.
“All our years and you thought to ask me this now? Now?”
“What better time?”
For the best conversations happen in the dark, the most profound confessions occur when it’s late.
“A time when I could perhaps see colors in front of me?”
“Seeing is nothing. Perceiving is everything.”
“You know, every once in a while, something comes out of your mouth that surprises me.”
August blinked, black fading into black. If he closed his eyes real hard, he could make out those polka dots of fake color floating around his vision. But that wouldn’t help and would only make him dizzy.
“I suppose it’s green.”
Liraz’s eyes are green. At one point, her lips had been green too. Or rather her lipstick. At a time when people explored colors other than red and pink.
Liraz preferred her deep red anyway.
“It’s a nice color.”
Liraz tilted her head to the side.
“That it is.”
They stick together to stay sane
Or maybe just to ease the pain
Liraz wished she still had her cigar as her body wished for something to do.
“Madeline passed last week.” August wiped his hand on his jeans, his body also wishing for something to occupy itself with.
Always restless, always moving.
State to state, place to place.
They say you can’t run from death, but can you run towards it?
“Did she? I liked her.”
“She was good company. While it lasted.”
Liraz leaned her shoulder against August’s. Any other person might have fallen from the pressure.
He was not any other person.
They were not any other people.
Sometimes it’s nice to explore the memories
They wear experience like accessories
“What’s the farthest thing back you can remember?” Liraz always had a question to spare. She carried them around in her pockets like gum, only offering them to people she liked.
Or rather, the person she loved.
“Hard question. Can I pass?” August wished he could look at Liraz’s smile. He wished he could see her.
“No, I want to know.”
He settled for hearing her instead. Feeling her. Being with her.
He reached his left hand out and felt around for Liraz’s hand, who clasped his firmly.
“Do you remember that day we stole those cameras? That. That’s my farthest memory.”
“I prefer the term borrowed.”
“I think the police begged to differ.”
Liraz grinned. Good memories were hard to come by. When you live long enough, good, bad, and average memories could blur into muddy messes in your brain.
If you picture fallen flowers on old graves
Then you’d picture them, like messages in bottles floating on waves
“This is my favorite place.” Liraz breathed in deep, a cough tickling her throat.
“No.” Liraz stared into August’s deep sea blue eyes. Though she knew they wouldn’t focus on her, she still stared. “With you.”
August squeezed at Liraz’s hand, still intertwined with his.
“That’s good. It’s my favorite place too.”
“With you, obviously.”
Liraz looked back up at the moon.
“That’s very flattering. You know, I’m wearing red lipstick right now.”
It was August’s turn to smile and he would’ve been looking at the moon too, if he could.
“I just know. Seemed like a red lipstick day.”
As all great stories end, theirs ends with a kiss
But perhaps they can find new beginnings in this
Liraz set her hand on August’s cheek again, pulling his face towards hers. She brushed her thumb over his lips delicately for a moment.
After less than a second of hesitation, she pulled his face so close, the space between them disappeared. August kissed her back, her face more familiar to him than anything. More than his own self, more than the feel of pain, more than the hard weight of knowledge pushing down on his shoulders.
Liraz pulled away, her breath gone, stolen by the cigarette long blown away by the wind. She took a shaky breath.
“I’m so tired,” Liraz whispered. August brought his own hand up to Liraz’s face, tracing his hand at her edges. “Of life,” she added, closing her eyes.
Because he did know and he did understand.
And he’d be the only person to ever understand.