How opposites attract

Her brown sweater was loose on her shoulders, looking like it was still on the clothes hanger. We’d always watch her from behind. Watch the sunlight caught in strings on her hair like honey, and the softness of her cheek baking snow in its cold curve. Her eyes were fringed with reedy lashes and her neck like a cliff of white chalk stood so tall and suple that noone dared to touch her lest she fall away from herself like the head of a rotten flower from its wicker stem.

He was more of a space man, not so earthy and damp. He felt the dusty loam of the Earth between his nails and his blood and he ached for wider and darker places. More and more, the deepest shadows compelled him skyward and he would sit and suck on grass blades and stare deep through time at the pin pricks of light and dust motes that murmered their history through the airless weight of space. The listless ground and purple flowers bore no relevancy to his world of galaxies and voids. Galaxies and voids.

Indeed, they were worlds apart, miles and leagues seperated them but sometimes distance makes people see things more clearly, more as a whole. He could see how she was like a tiny blue dot in the middle of the trembling universe. She could see him enveloping her, holding her in great dark hands that smelt like the cold breath of night that lulled her to sleep. Together they were Earth and Heaven and only Hell came in between. She, a precious little sapphire, something to cherish, and he a great force that protected and nurtured her. They completed eachother.