I am right as the rain that is pouring itself down onto your face, just to get a taste of those sweet lips. The rain who is forever at your service, fulfilling your biological needs, absorbing deep into your skin. Mixing with your perspiration and running down off your body. Thankful that it ever had a chance to know you better than the clouds that hang above your head.
I am right as the air you breathe, filtering through your lungs everytime your body is craving a fresh breath of the world that surrounds you. A breath of fresh air to clear your troubled mind, air of the world, to fill your lungs and stimulate your senses. To clear your vision and to clear your soul.
I am right as the food you consume, the very food that makes you sick to your stomach. The food that gives you the fuel to survive, the drive to move on through the day. The food that you want to avoid because you feel it too much, you know exactly when you've eaten because it nearly kills you to do so and live.
I am right as the time that ticks on when you're not there, the time that you spend avoiding yourself or consumed within the afairs of others. The time that passes ever so ticking, passing along in it's own sweet control of nothing. The time, which affects all just by being, not by doing or changing a single thing. The time that is only given meaning by those who make use of it.
I am right as the wind that passes through your hair, ruffling the sweet frame of your face. The wind that blows through your phone everytime you walk outside. The wind that kisses your body and is then gone, leaving you with the effects to brush off with heat. The inconvienient wind who dares not stay to freeze you but will come around once in a while to make sure you never forget what it feels like.
I am right as the lysosomes that are digesting your cells, killing themselves for the benefit of your whole self. The lysosomes that are eating you from the inside out, a beautiful death for the sole health of every inch of your body. The lysosomes who will eventually digest all the cells that she affected with her touch.
I am right as the love that you bleed everytime you pierce your skin with the silver blade sharpened to a point. Mixing your pain with bittersweet release and spilling down over your skin. A gift to the world, so that maybe one day when your beautiful soul reaches heaven to meet her, maybe you can realise that she always belonged in hell.
