The Colour of Our Love – A Flash Fiction Story

smallerHe could see to the edge of the earth and back. The sky itself became his canvass. He watched the cosmos put on their light show for him. It was always different, punctuated by comets and shooting stars, the sky changing from a dusky plum colour to a sateen black.

From his vantage point, he saw everything. He had made his home at the top of a fire watch tower. That tower was at the top of a mountain. Alexander saw everything above and below. Every so often, he saw a flare of orange and red plumes fill the sky, as if the night itself had thrown off its black cloak to reveal the fiery feathers underneath. He called in those, speaking to the people who would put the fires out.

That was his life: wake, look out at the world and watch to see if part of it was erupting. He was deep within the trees of the forest so when the wind blew, it was as if the trees were whispering to him. In a way, he was never alone, but he was very lonely. He filled up his evenings with old movies. The fire watch tower had a small black and white television and a pile of old VHS cassettes. He did have a few books, but at night, when the darkness was total, he liked to have the sound of another voice.

He had been watching one movie in particular over and over again. It was an old movie from 1988 called Running on Empty. River Phoenix was in it and he was gorgeous. Alexander knew he needed to get laid if he was lusting after a guy from thirty years ago.

Just like the stars that changed in the blink an eye, so does life. It was a perfectly ordinary day. There was nothing to mark it as different. Alexander was just about to climb up to the top of the tower with some supplies when he heard a voice behind him. “Hey, Alexander?”

Turning, Alexander felt the world around him fall away. Coming towards him, his footsteps whispering like the leaves in the wind, was Troy. His Troy, his only. His everything. Alexander wondered if it was possible for a heart to stop beating when someone left and start anew when that person returned.

There were so many things that Alexander wanted to say. Instead he said, “What are you doing here?” What he wanted to say was: Where have you been? Why did you leave? How did you get back here? How did you find me?

Alexander watched Troy as Troy came closer to him, saw brilliance of his green eyes flash in the sun, saw the stubble on his chin and his gorgeous lips. Then Troy was there, and he was kissing Alexander. He had dreamed of Troy, had yearned for him, so it didn’t occur to push Troy away from him.

Troy still carried the same scent, sandalwood and something sweet, like someone had dusted his skin with sugar and cinnamon. Alexander slowly broke the kiss. “You might as well come up. You don’t want to be out here at night.”

Alexander turned away from Troy and began climbing up the ladder of the watchtower. He felt the moment when Troy began climbing. He could feel his vibrations in the ladder. As Alexander climbed, he wondered how he could still want him as if it were yesterday, why his heart held onto the emotions that only Troy could awake in him?

All too soon, Alexander was at the top. His body was humming, and a vibration seemed to come from his skin. It wanted to be touched again. He wanted to be touched again. Then Troy was there, his hair shining like spun gold in a riot of curls.

They both stood looking at each other, taking in the measure of the other man. Alexander wanted to run to him, to crush his body into Troy’s. Instead, he asked, “Why are you here?”

Troy ran a hand through his hair and Alexander was almost undone. That gesture was so familiar to him. Troy only did it when he was nervous. “I missed you.”

“That’s it?”

“What else do you want me to say? That the moment I left you, I wanted to come back? That I dream of you at night and now visions of you have started to seep into the daylight hours?”

Alexander was quiet. Then he spoke. “Why did you leave me?”

“I wanted more than this.” Troy motioned to the watch tower. “I wanted to live.”

“Whereas you were more than enough for me because I was only truly alive with you.”

Troy came a little closer. The air between them started to spark. “I saw flames in the sky and all I could think of was you. All I want is you.” He touched Alexander’s face. “Please.”

It was the please that undid Alexander. He kissed him again, trying to say everything that had yet to be said, everything he had wanted to say, with that kiss. He knew that there was more to talk about but right now, there was only Troy.

Something clicked within him, as if a wall had dropped. His skin was warm, and he felt a whoosh of air around him. He pulled away from the kiss and looked around him. All he saw was Troy and a riot of colour. At first, he thought it was fire, but as Troy and Alexander reached out to touch the plumes, they did not burn.

“It’s the colour of our love.” Troy said.

Alexander stared at the gold, yellow and orange plumage that surrounded them, seeming to move with their heart beats, and realized: it hadn’t been fires he had been seeing: it was the love between two people blooming into existence.

Holding Troy close, he looked out into the night sky as the world around them became a riot of colour.

The House Inside of Me – A Poem

My body is built fromsmaller

walls of bone.

They have been covered

with wallpaper

in a soft coloured hue.

There are hardwood floors

that run throughout the house.

They’ve suffered some water damage

and have become warped over time,

so walking might be a little tipsy.

There are photos that hang

upon the walls

and there are shelves

covered with nicknacks.

Each one of them tell a story,

a memory.

If you put them all in a line,

they will show you the path

my body has been on.

There are large picture windows

that let in the most gorgeous

amount of light

and they make the furniture,

careworn and old,

look brand new.

There is a washroom

that is covered in black and white tile

that is cracked in a few places.

There is an old clawfoot bathtub

big enough to fall asleep;

there is a book on the tiled floor,

half read.

If you go to the topmost floor,

as high as you can go,

you will find a library there,

a massive room filled to the brim

with towers of books.

The attic seems to go on forever,

filled with books I have read

and books that I have written.

The air smells musty

and is full of the scent of paper.

As I take in the house,

every nook and cranny,

all the cracks and holes,

the doors that don’t quite close,

or the faucet that always drips,

I am filled only with love.

As the sun falls along the wonky floorboards,

filling the house with light,

I realise that I am finally

at home in my body.

I am finally at home

in me.

A Pathway of Stars – A Poem

star

* This poem is for Christine, the brightest Star I know. 🙂

 

There is a glow within you

and it emanates from you

in subtle waves that flow

like the ocean.

You don’t merely walk

upon the ground,

for you know that every step

is a part of your journey.

Each step you take

leaves a bit of magic

in your wake;

it floats like stardust in the air.

In your dreams,

you are looking down

from high up in the clouds.

When the sky is dark,

the magic that you’ve left

upon this Earth

shines the brightest.

When you look down,

you can see every step

that you’ve taken.

You can trace them

from the beginning,

but you can’t see its end.

You follow your pathway of stars

as far as you can

until they disappear into forever.

Your journey is only beginning,

and you carry within you

the infinite cosmos and galaxies untold.

For you are a Star

that walks upon this Earth.

and our world is brighter

because of you.

A Seed About to Grow – A Poem

Sometimes,smaller

when I am asleep,

I dream of who I used to be,

who I left behind.

I can usually see his shadow first,

made of smoke and mist.

I watch as he stumbles,

as he tries to do

control a body

that is no longer his.

I approach him and he starts,

frightened of the mist

becoming another.

“I thought I was alone down here.”

He says.

“I’m always alone.”

I pull him into an embrace,

try to communicate everything

I wish someone had said to me

while I walked around

inside the darkness

of myself.

“You are not alone.”

I say.

“I am always with you.”

I stand back to brush a hand

along his brow, hoping that

he can feel the light

I’m giving

him.

As the darkness begins to lessen,

and the brightness of reality intercedes,

I look at him,

at me,

one last time.

I see a kernel of light,

pulsing in his forehead

where I touched him.

It is a seed

about to

grow.

Your Glorious Magic – A Poem

download

Though I struggle with a lot,

loving you is the easiest thing to do.

I don’t have to even think about it,

my love for you is a constant vibration

that shines through me like the sun.

Though I may have difficulties

that often set me back,

loving you moves me forward.

Before you, my path was filled with shadows.

Now, it is filled with sunshine and,

though we can’t see the end,

I am not afraid when I am with you.

There are times when I feel

that I can’t do it,

that it’s not possible,

that it won’t work.

You have only to hold out your hand

and utter the words “You’ve got this.”

to help me believe that anything is possible.

Though life passes us by,

moving quickly so that

one second

one hour

and one day tend to blend together,

there is one thing in my life

that has remained timeless:

You, glorious you.

Loving you is the easiest thing to do

and you are proof

that magic is real.