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Signed, sealed, delivered, I’m yours?

I don’t like to think of anything I write as definitive, as the final say on anything that binds it to me and marks it as standing truth. I don’t think any signature can be true always, that any promise goes without an expiry date. The earth is waiting to quake, possibility dueling improbability through every ink splotch on papyrus; I, I meaning us all, can’t know what our hearts will entice our minds to trigger our bodies to fall into tomorrow, because of or against the path of our souls.

The shock sucked the oxygen from her airstream. She had no idea he would say yes. Her body began shaking, both ecstatic and panicked at the same time. Revealing an aspect of her true self was risky. What if he balked, laughed, ran? Would it alter their relationship forever? Would they grow closer on the level of intimacy she had always longed for but had never experienced in real life before? Or would this moment end ‘them’ for once and for all? The moment of truth was at hand.

The airstream was fierce, whipping her hair around and causing it to furl behind her in a wave of crimson.
“Can’t we put the damned top up?” she yells over the sound of the rushing wind, making the driver laugh, throwing her head back dangerously far to reveal the pale column of her throat to the last drops of the evening sun.
“Where’s the fun in that?” comes her reply, her voice breathless from laughter.

She opened first one eye and then the other. It had been a long flight. where was she this morning? Or was it afternoon? Heidi had no idea what time of day it was. Groggily she got out of bed, stumbled to the window, opened the heavy drapes and there it was. The Manhattan skyline.

The tender glow of sunlight broke through the city air
Massaging tired shoulders, wounding with its glare
Words dealt by a stranger, given with a gentle heart
Not knowing that they struck the mind like a target by a dart.

Ugh. What a terrible topic for the day.
Mostly because I’m stuck in this riff (or maybe it’s actually a rift).
I feel lost in a cavern, but also lost in some repeated pattern that says the same words and sings the same sad notes over and over to my musical ear.

I guess something has to keep me grounded in myself.
Or perhaps I would simply float away.
If only, if only.

“You’re off your bloody rocker mate, turning over merchandise like this without testing the first hand,” he licked his broken lips. “I mean, how do we know it works?”
His hand snaked out towards her barely covered thigh, only to be halted when Seriph’s hand wrapped around his wrist, tight enough to ground the bones together.
“If you want to keep that hand, you’ll keep it to yourself,” she said, her voice even.
He ripped his hand back, cradling it to his chest. “Alright, alright. I won’t touch the girl. Scout’s honor,” he promised, offering her the mocking imitation of a salute.
“See that you don’t,” she said, turning her eyes back to the fire.

The room was in pieces. The mantle was hanging by a few splinters of wood and the contents of every drawer were scattered across the floor. A stack of muddied, crumpled papers lay haphazardly on top of the upended rocker.
She had come in behind me. “My god, what happened in here?” She saw the papers and gave a piercing shriek. “My sketches!”

I do wonder as I sit here on my rocker, whether i could have done more in my life. And although I’ve always said, what would I do if I weren’t afraid, I was never able to work out what I was afraid of. My days are numbered now, I can feel it and

He shouldered past me, the dark expression on his face more than enough to encourage the others not to follow.
“Is he alright?” Kelendra asked, her voice heavy with concern.
I shrugged. “He’ll be fine the second he dislodges that stick form his ass,” I assured, flashing her a smile that was equal parts sarcasm and disinterest.
She frowned. “How can you be so cruel? He’s your brother,”
“And he’s an ass – no one knows that better than me,” I said honestly.