Dust and Rain

"If the two halves of my heart make mud, what does that say about me?"

Dust and rain are actually pretty similar. They both coat everything and get everywhere. When I walk around in the rain it gets in my socks and catches on my lashes. When I walk through the desert the dust wraps around my teeth and covers my eyes. I buried my hands in my pockets of an old gray jacket as I walked. The pockets were larger than normal, they could fit two hands in each if the person next to me was cold. I wore the jacket in the hot nights of the desert as well. It was my love, my fear, my comfort. Although I only had one set of hands to protect this time. It’s the blue sky that reaches the ends of my vision without a thought of a cloud to break it.  Or maybe it’s the rolling gray puffs that extend forever in either direction. The roads are so flat that if you look in the distance they become mini mirages in the distance. But the roads curve too much, every second is a new discovery. Everything is interesting, or everything is beautiful. If the two halves of my heart combine to make mud, what does that say about me?  

Author's Note

say whatever it is that you were thinking, I suppose.