"So sit on top of the world and tell me how you're feeling"

[eggybread.livejournal.com]

title: Sunday Night And It's Half-Past Eleven
involves: Ty Conklin/Marc-André Fleury
rating: PG-15
disclaimer: uh, it's really not getting dark in Alaska at this time of year. Any other resemblance to real-life remains, as always, strictly coincidental.
notes: Title is adapted from a line of a Bruce Cockburn song. Yes, this is sentimental. And wasn't intended to be metaphoric but ended up as such. I ask for your forgiveness.
word count: 184. Trying to make this any longer involved implications and complications I didn't want right now; may be extended later. I ask for your forgiveness.

Happy Summer.




In this endless Alaskan twilight I wanted to taste you again. Feel you, touch you, and maybe, if you let me hold you all night -- I'd be able to tell you how much you meant to me. The sky right now is always like your smile; you can make your way by it when you shouldn't be able to see.

Damn light; effervescent, ever-present, defying the natural order, disturbing people; taking them outside of routine, away from habit. Refusing to let them sleep, demanding that everybody take notice and respond, simply because it doesn't happen everywhere, all the time...

Persistent, annoyingly intrusive just for the sake of being out of place...

And I want you here, where time's extended, and I'd see you smiling like the whole white night full of brightness.

I think you belong in Alaska at this time of year, Flower. I think you belong in me at any time of year and I think I love you as much as the excesses of a glowing midnight sun after the isolation and surfeit of darkness and misery in winter.

Comments

[eggybread.livejournal.com]

Yup, except in my case you can throw Shero in there too. "Why aren't you trading Sabu; WHY can't you give me some hope....?"