We don’t know where we’re going. We’re by a canal and we innately understand that the city lights won’t let our gravity be defied. We plaster our sight across every other line, across every other line, across every other line.
– We need green.
We catch eyes.
I inwardly apologise if I’ve done this prematurely. Face on; I turn to face you. On the hill, the sky meanders until it is the only thing beside you. There’s a blur of scintillating taxi signs and 5pm fireflies behind you. I can see the line of your profile. You breathe deep and the lines of your chest become obtuse. You breathe in the ripples of the sky. The lines of your silhouette reach its peak and the city lights seep behind it. Right there, in front of my eyes, you breathed in deep; and I witnessed you taking away the disquiet.
– We need blue. We we want each others’ truths.
We’ve waited months for the night to fall and now it is ours. Starting to feel more at ease we talk without taking a breath. We know that with each anecdote that passes by the sundials amends its time. It gift us with more night to watch the stars fight with sonar lights. We’re walking side by side holding onto our own shivers; but we’re not yet close enough. I want you to know I can take away the winter breeze and I need you to know I have never spoken with such wide-eyed devotion about the mundane. I tell you things I’ve never known.
– We need red.
Walking further along the canal we come across a damp dock to rest our backs on. We need to jump over fences to get to it. We came this far. We jump. To make sure we know the night is real we chose a ribbed dock to lay on. Side by side, we catch planes while I dip my feet into the water. You tell me you should never really have your chest uncovered. I take off my coat and cover us both. I dip my head underneath and you follow suit. For that moment we didn’t need the stars. For the first time, under my winter coat, I felt the density of your spectre. The sky becomes impatient and warns us the night is coming to an end. It begins to rain. We don’t want to leave but the rain gets heavier. We run towards a bridge, shivering and wet. I bury myself in your chest and without knowing we protect each other from the heavy rain.The sky is still not happy. Lightning begins to flash and we decide to take shelter under some stairs. Arching our backs slightly, we find ourselves away from the city and finally from the sky. While we wait for the rain to stop falling, you quieten all the noise as we kiss for the first time. The lightening stops and the rain fades. We wait for the noise to come back but the only thing that can be heard is a sheet of film sliced between dusk and dawn melting away.