Wonder

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v4pi1LxuDHc  
   
   
   
She had been staring at him for a few moments now, debating on whether she should take his outstretched hand and run away with him.    
   
What to do? This is the lonely town - with dead dreams, dead people, hopes trampled on, and painful resurrections. Crossroads with souls just passing by to get somewhere bigger, with some souls planted firmly on the ground - knowing little else, or simply are content.    
   
But not her. She is restless, and he knows this. Knows sleepless nights, and winding tirades, ramblings. Knows the fights and victories, knows the surges of joy and the lonely. He knows. So she smiled at him and placed her hand in his.    
   
Warmth was different with him; it traveled past the skin. And shivers were cherished, tingling to skin - electric and alive. And life wasn't so bad. And remembering the good was not so painful.    
   
The bad was stubborn. It's in scars and memory loss. It's in tummy aches and blood and bruises. It's in the heavy. It was in her tears as the night sky rolled in. She loved the night too much. And he loved her just as much. So they'd lay their bodies on the ground, and look up at the stars beginning to show themselves. And the sky was theirs for a while.    
   
Because he was as stubborn. He was the one good song she can't get out of her head - that plays on and on and on. He was the twinge in her chest with every beat; he was the strum with each sway of her hips as he danced along. He was the silence. He was silly words and laughter. He was the sweetness, the voice of the possibility of something better. He was the last note that bring her back to reality where nothing ever is perfect. Not her, not him. And she loves him anyway. And he loves her anyway.    
   
On the forgiving grass, she's the one who reached for his hand. As their fingers entwined, she reveled at the feeling of now. How...under the vast skies, they were a minuscule part of the universe, in awe and grateful to have this 'now.'    
   
The dead were buried, and they were alive; for the moment, they were grounded, but hopeful to join the cars speeding past, to reach a new place they've never been, to see new faces.    
   
The love was constant. It's in him pulling her into his arms. It's in kisses and whispers. It's in touches and being bare, in new memories being made. It was in the pain of uncertainties, disappointments, realities. It's in the lightness. It was in the hope for a new beginning as the sun sets. It was promise. It was blinking possibilities...forgiveness, moving past regrets.  
 
She breathes again.  
   
   
   
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