A painter's game - Tom Kaulitz

In the city stars

***

"Because there isn't anything I believe in more". He said, caressing my forehead as the sun hit his face just right.

I felt a relief, some sort of comfort.

I always choose to let myself get worse, I don't why that is. The thoughts that consume me never let me rest.

Everything is moving on with life, why can't I do the same? Why can't we?

He held me close, like if he let go, I'd be gone.

"I wasn't made for anyone to hold, I'm not saveable" I whispered, his heart consumed whole.

The fall breeze hitting me through the window, having a sense of nostalgia, the same breeze I felt a long time ago. Yet it was exactly the same.

The same man holding me tight as the cold air filled the room. Hearing the trees collide to the rhythm of falls music.

I can see the room in front of me.

I can see the river outside, I can see Katie smoking a blunt on the balcony with a smell of alcohol in toms hand. I can see it infront of me.

I can see the closed grey cold room that I rotted inside the bed all day. I can see myself move, yet the stash of blades hasn't left that spot in my room. I hesitate to dispose of them and that in itself tells me I'm lying to myself. It's still hiding under the cabinets of my bed, wondering if he'll ever find them and come save me, yet he never did.

He never did. I screamed and yelped for his savoir, hoping that he hadn't gone to leave me to rot.

Yet here we are, hugging me like it was 3 years ago, I can still smell him, he was the same. It felt like I had time travelled.

I could almost smell the irony blood.

I can see the day in front of me, the day was not  usual, I was not in my right  mind at all. I was scared, I feared anything that came close. It was like there was only darkness around me. But when I sat on that motorcycle, with his warm hand on my thigh and the cold fall breeze in my hair, I knew things were gonna be okay. It would be bad, but then it would be okay.

Even though he's here, he holds me. He could never understand. He could never understand how my head works or how I can go mute. Or how my body doesn't allow me to love anyone, because how could I love anyone when I just hated myself more than anything else,

I've never felt more alone, there's not a beautiful way to explain that I am lonely.

And no, the past will unfortunately forever haunt me.

I took his hand, "all I feel is emptiness." I said, I wanted to speak my mind.

He curled his hands. "We feel empty because we leave prices of ourselves in everything we used to love." He looked me deep into my iris.

"I'm not going back there, not to the past. Not again. I may forever have those memories in my mind, but I don't want to wake up on my own anymore." I wanted him to know, I wanted to share my words, the words I always wanted to let out of my shutter throat.

It bothers me that mercy is so difficult to understand.

I pressed my head against the hole of his forehead, placing it perfectly to his. 

He opened his mouth, feeling the grasps of his voice echo. "For the longest time, I saw myself as a bad person. You don't know how much it meant to me when you looked at me and saw the good." He always saw the truth in me, and I in his.

"You trusted me in ways that you will forever hold my mercy." He continued.

I looked at his eyes, "I always saw the sadness in your eyes, for the betrayal you had carried, I saw my reflection in your eyes."

He swallowed harshly, knowing that what we had was real, and that we'll always smile at each other with joy, even though we carry tears of blood.

___

We had talked for a while on the balcony of his apartment, it was hidden, hidden somewhere outside of the city. We shared a blunt, like we usually did. The memories came flooding back. My chest filled with this emotion, the emotion of loss. Loss was the worst feeling I had ever felt, and I knew that because I had experienced every emotion there is. I had been through things that I didn't even think I'd be able to stand on my feet today, yet, loss was worse than getting stabbed. And the fact that I had lost the person standing behind the gun, was the greatest hit of them all. Something so indescribable.

He would look at me from time to time while we spoke, his eyes bittersweet.

I never saw the bad things in him. I always pretended to protect myself. I knew I would destroy myself, I knew the things he was capable of, but I could never see the evil. He had sad eyes. He carried bruises that you could even sense before seeing his body.

Like how his eyebrow always twitched when he heard my voice. Like how he breathed unsynced when he held a knife. Like how i could naturally tell when he was bothered. Something no one else would.

The past is something that will always bother a person. It's a curse that will haunt you, and you can never get out.

His hands were covered with scars, some I had always seen, some new. I sat and wondered how he got them. And how his scar from his neck to his ear had healed, something so ugly could turn a human into something beautiful. He carried his scars like trophy's. He fell to the ground and always got up.

I looked at him. "I missed this terribly. The world is just quiet for the first time."

He looked at me for a second, and then a small gentle smile followed up his lips. "While I were away. I couldn't seem to go on a day without searching in the stars for you."

***