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in the bare land that trails behind me, there are mirages and locations known only to the people who have traveled there with me, or the rare seasoned spectator. Most would find the sandscape unamusing and droll or exasperating to look at but not me. I know the little treasures that we have buried or struggled against. I know the heat that has hit us when we were at our lows and the trees that provided shade for us when we were gasping for air. Those little small tokens have made all the difference. My desert, my friend.

It is before me that strikes fear and an uncontrollable rage within me.

The dark lights hide what is around me and though I claim to be a vampire, it is only when I am within the city as one of them that I am "friend" to the streets. Looking ahead from this concrete platform between settings, I have no real safety.

I am sure... pretty sure, that even the concrete under my boots could fall.

As evidence of my uncertainly, I bring exhibit C. We were listening to the ipod bucket, which only worked for my hands now. The day had been fairly good. I had cleaned only what I felt like cleaning before I knew he would come over. The windows were particularly gross and I knew if I cleaned the glass tables it would get my mother off my back. And while I was at it, there was no harm in a little vacuuming my room. I liked vacuuming, always have. There we were, in my clean room, listening to music that I enjoyed and despite being happy around him, my eye slowly filled with water.

He's the sweetest guy and makes me laugh all the time. I feel genuinely safe in his arms and ... warmth. Not desire or lust but... warmth. It is like a comfort. Ah. Difficult to explain. And even with those great feats in my eyes, there was a saddness tugging from inside me. It wasn't the kind where you think "oh my past boyfriend this..." or "Axel that...." no... it was that unexplainable moment where your eye tears up and you just want to heave over and sob. You want to give up and let go of whatever false strength you ever had to cry.

It was... like the night I watched Sailor Moon. Only, I didn't let myself cry.

I didn't let myself just go with it.

The self expression was buried.

Too late.

My fragility was already exposed.
My flesh, no longer ripe.
My breath no longer hot.