Status: rest in peace.
You Out There?
Where y'at? I've been waitin' on you, sugar.
It’s a pretty quick thing. I remember closing my eyes, and the suffocating feeling disperse. Now here I am, and it’s all white and gold. And I can’t help but feel like I’m intruding on something too beautiful to describe.
I hear your voice. You call my name and—“Honey? Honey, you out there?”
I’m kind of in shock. I haven’t heard your voice in so long. I still recognize it, but it’s changed. It’s music now—literal music. Like you have little harps in your throat instead of vocal chords.
And you appear. I don’t know where you come from; I hadn’t seen you beforehand. You just kind of appear out of the white and gold, and I can’t even begin to describe you either because I wouldn’t do you any justice.
You look like you did when I first met you. Twenty-one years old, electric eyes and a smile to match. And I know that it’s you—there’s no way that it can’t be you—but I, oddly enough, almost don’t recognize you. You’ve got no imperfections about you. And I’m looking, and looking, and looking, and I can’t find anything even slightly out of place.
You are beautiful. And I tell you that, too. No, no, I don’t think you understand; you are so beautiful. I grab your face, searching for something that lets me know that it’s really you. The scar behind the shell of your ear. The pinkish birthmark underneath your left eyebrow. And I find nothing.
I look down, and I realize that I’m in my youth as well. There’s not a flaw. I don’t have any scratches or cuts or anything. Not even a hair out of place. (But I’m pretty sure I’m still not as beautiful as you.)
You laugh, and so do I (our voices are like wind chimes together, did you know?) because I’m feeling so many different things that I can’t focus, but one thing that I’m sure of is that I’ve missed you. Sincerely, truly missed you. I’ve missed everything about you. And seeing you again…I can’t tell you. But this time—this time, it’s right. This time, I get to keep you.
I don’t know how this is happening, but suddenly you and I are in front of those beautiful golden gates that are somewhat visible through the gold and white. And I don’t have to see all of it to know that it’s beautiful. And I know that I’m home, that this is where I belong, that it’s supposed to be (and always has been) you and me.
You smile and I almost turn away because there’s no way something, in the very most literal sense, can be this faultless.
As the gates begin to slowly open and I begin to hear singing, you tell (sing to) me, “I’m so glad you’re finally here. I’ve been waiting on you for a really long time. But you know, your eyes stayed the same.”
I stare at you because I’m not sure what you mean, and then—
“You still look at me like I’m the solution to every one of your problems.”
I hear your voice. You call my name and—“Honey? Honey, you out there?”
I’m kind of in shock. I haven’t heard your voice in so long. I still recognize it, but it’s changed. It’s music now—literal music. Like you have little harps in your throat instead of vocal chords.
And you appear. I don’t know where you come from; I hadn’t seen you beforehand. You just kind of appear out of the white and gold, and I can’t even begin to describe you either because I wouldn’t do you any justice.
You look like you did when I first met you. Twenty-one years old, electric eyes and a smile to match. And I know that it’s you—there’s no way that it can’t be you—but I, oddly enough, almost don’t recognize you. You’ve got no imperfections about you. And I’m looking, and looking, and looking, and I can’t find anything even slightly out of place.
You are beautiful. And I tell you that, too. No, no, I don’t think you understand; you are so beautiful. I grab your face, searching for something that lets me know that it’s really you. The scar behind the shell of your ear. The pinkish birthmark underneath your left eyebrow. And I find nothing.
I look down, and I realize that I’m in my youth as well. There’s not a flaw. I don’t have any scratches or cuts or anything. Not even a hair out of place. (But I’m pretty sure I’m still not as beautiful as you.)
You laugh, and so do I (our voices are like wind chimes together, did you know?) because I’m feeling so many different things that I can’t focus, but one thing that I’m sure of is that I’ve missed you. Sincerely, truly missed you. I’ve missed everything about you. And seeing you again…I can’t tell you. But this time—this time, it’s right. This time, I get to keep you.
I don’t know how this is happening, but suddenly you and I are in front of those beautiful golden gates that are somewhat visible through the gold and white. And I don’t have to see all of it to know that it’s beautiful. And I know that I’m home, that this is where I belong, that it’s supposed to be (and always has been) you and me.
You smile and I almost turn away because there’s no way something, in the very most literal sense, can be this faultless.
As the gates begin to slowly open and I begin to hear singing, you tell (sing to) me, “I’m so glad you’re finally here. I’ve been waiting on you for a really long time. But you know, your eyes stayed the same.”
I stare at you because I’m not sure what you mean, and then—
“You still look at me like I’m the solution to every one of your problems.”
♠ ♠ ♠
I wrote this at one AM this morning. It's probably one of the more beautiful things I've written recently. If you haven't already guessed, this is one of the many variations/scenarios that I've imagined of heaven and what it might be like (even though I know this probably didn't even come close, haha). Maybe I'll write another like this.xoxo.