kids, kids, kids. they're running, screaming. in a car, windows down, they're running, running. it's so far and they know, they know the distance. there's a boy, tall, lanky, and has short bedhead of black. there's a girl, tall, slender, her eyes are blind. her hair is purple, a pastel of insanity. after all she couldn't even see the **** color, or the length. but she could feel.
her hair hit her hips, long curls of proud progress, and her hair was lilac because she could feel the pigment. now he could see and he would tell her of the sky and the stars every morning and night. she wanted to see the mountains, and he was taking her. they both knew she'd never see them, but she'd feel them.
hard rock, stubby brush, the uncomfortable and unknown terrain that comes along with a mountain. they know the distance, they know the risks, they know the irony of it all.
they were done, school's over. that hell was history. college was new, probably still hell, but new. "It's cloudy tonight, there's a fog this morning," he'd say, holding her hand to his chest so she could feel the truth of it all and the she would write it all down in a notebook she couldn't see. he led her to the massive drop, warning not to step past him. he was her barrier between heaven and hell and so much more. she wanted love, wanted it all. she could feel her own love, though never see and he wanted kids, kids he could see and she could feel.
they were happy, sitting on the roof of that car. he told her scorpio was out, her favorite of them all, though scorpio was hidden behind clouds. that is love he thought, holding her hand to his chest. she knew it was a lie, for she could feel, but this was love she thought. this was their arrangement.
this was love, they knew.