Rooftops in Winter

it’s silent on the rooftops when you can hear the changing color of the sky. but, the difference between the music of your breath and the songs of the starlight is that i would never turn yours off. you pushed me off the ladder and you smiled as my hair waved around my face, falling down past the windows of people who were living and eating their nighttime cereal, and you smiled because my hair, flailing around my face, looked like the tongues of fire licking at a crackling log. it didn’t bother you that i was slowly disappearing to my demise, with the ground nearing my defenseless body, and with the sky disappearing behind the towers, and because it didn’t bother you, it didn’t bother me. despite the silence on the rooftops, i could not hear the changing color of the sky. but you laughed at the changing color of the asphalt that my insides created on the black, and because you laughed, i laughed. the collision might have made me sad, but i cannot be sad when i am with you, even when i am dying with you. dying every time i am with you, i cannot be sad. because i cannot hear the changing color of the sky and i cannot hear the songs of the starlight, but i can hear your laugh and i can see your smile so my dying doesn’t bother me quite so much. they think that they understand, but the reality is that if i don’t know, then nobody knows. but the silence is half way to complete, and maybe when its quiet, even quiet from the sound of your laugh, then it might start to hurt. but the bruises right now are just another color that i can’t see in the light that you shine. so, keep shining and i’ll keep smiling because you don’t mind that i die, and so neither do i.