Pink Sakura, Pink Sakura.
Oh where do I begin.
Adrenaline, knees separate, a touch upon your chin.

Pink Sakura, Pink Sakura.
From there do I descend.
And down your neck and collarbone, sensation stirs within.

Pink Sakura. I whisper words.
You bite your lip again.
I feel them all, Pink Sakura, the goosebumps on your skin.

Another inch. Pink Sakura.
I reach your abdomen.
Another breath you can't contain; the fire and the sin.

Pink Sakura. It's getting warm.
I wonder where you've been.
I'm drawing near, it's softer here. I pass a subtle grin.

Pink Sakura, Pink Sakura.
Your heart is beating fast.
I find my way beneath the lace.
Pink Sakura, at last.

I'm walking through darkness; it's cold and alone. I don't know the way, but I must go wherever you are not, my closest friend. Through a chain link fence where I can only touch your fingers, this 'second heart' is not what I desire.

I must let go, and I can't say why because you cannot know, but I hope to feel your touch again soon. Beneath your waves, my path is slow. It's hard to breathe, but 'friend' is far more suffocating.

I love you. I am in love with you.

And once I reach the edge, I will jump, and I will fall, so please forget about me. It's getting darker, but your light shines on ever infinitely. I'll watch you from afar as our bond dissipates and the cold winds tighten my skin, but eventually, I'll reach your bottom-most heart.

The heart that holds your distant relatives. The old friends from school you haven't spoken to in years, and the co-workers you forget about until you hear their names again. I'll wait until you can barely see me. Just until you begin to lose wonder, and the memories become vague.

Then I will return.

I'll act surprised at how you've grown, even though I never stopped watching. I'll show you things you've never noticed through that chain fence. Now keen at crossing cold rivers and dim caves, I'll continue my journey.

To your first heart.

I am here, I can feel it.
And I know you do, too.
Calling it love would be anything but true.
Because there are no inconsistencies.
It's a slow, melodic rhythm.
We are not in love.
We are deep, within a Prism.

What lies beyond love.
What most don't get to see.
A Prism that floats amongst space, aimlessly.
Above life, above all, above land, above sea.
Where the world seems minuscule, comparatively.

Because love is naive.
Broken hearts fixed with glue.
No, I am not in love.
I'm in a Prism, with you.

You said goodbye that morning, but not that kind. I thought nothing more of it as the hours passed on, but it slowly occurred to me that something was amiss. Time spent without you opens a void in me. I'll always feel it when you've been gone for too long, and I needed it closed again. I returned home. My hopeful hand caressed the doorknob as the image of your body, bare beneath the moonlight, came to mind. I opened it, but bare beneath the moonlight were only sheets. You left the window open again, so everything was blue. I noticed my things were still scattered about, but yours weren't. The chills grew more lonesome, but I am all too familiar with this feeling. I took the longest breath of my life, wondering, is this your form of goodbye? The bed was still a mess from our last touch. The wind smelled like your perfume, the bathroom like your soap, but your shoes were all gone. Your clothes had all vanished, your essence, only there by memory. Just a single strand of your hair remained on the counter-top where your hairbrush used to lie. I wanted to doubt it, every ominous thought, but.

I'm sure you had your reasons.