Calypso

March

Please enjoy with the music. Thank you.

She's never looked so trapped before, palms on the window as if clutching the bars of a cage. Her eyes, usually light and vivid, reflect the weather outside. You can see the raindrops mirrored in her eyes, hitting the ground with such force that the floor seems to shake.

Her gaze on the flowers, she stares with such emptiness that it seems like everything that matters is gone, her eyes seeming to command the rain and wind to spare her garden. She balances on her toes, looking as if she might take flight any minute now.

Her dear flowers are forced to the ground, laying as if they're dead. Some petals are torn off by the wind, flying wildly before suddenly being pinned to the ground. The usually glowing plants have lost their luster, looking a dismal gray. You feel the urge to hold her down before she flies away to attempt to save them from something inevitable.

She does not acknowledge you as you step closer. Her rosy lips, usually turned up sweetly, are pressed in a line; not a frown, but not a smile either. She seems to have lost the ability to feel, the usual warmth about her gone, stolen by the wind.

Even so, the girl is beautiful.

The room is dark, the window allowing for a streak of lightning to illuminate the room in staccato notes, short and sudden, every now and then. Her porcelain skin glows every time the lighting flashes, the shadows of the raindrops moving on her white dress like shadow puppets on a screen.

So stunningly beautiful.

As you stand next to her, so close you can almost touch her, you realize that maybe she doesn't even know you're there. Perhaps she is so focused on the storm that she does not realize that there are other things of worth still untouched by the bullets of rain.

Like you.

On impulse you touch her cheek, your warm hand lightly coming into contact with her cold skin. Making sure she is real and not an illusion, increasingly farther and farther away. Reminding her that there is still you to hold tenderly and sing to. That flowers aren't the only things that matter.

Without missing a beat she smiles, immediately inviting you to a nighttime tea. Smiling as if she means it. If only her eyes weren't millions of miles away.

Never again will she become so empty and broken, filled with pain. You vow to never let her come that close to flying away ever again.