he's a cloud.

he had been one since the beginning. he had been curious to those soft-looking things in the sky and thought how it would've felt to touch. it's not like he couldn't reach them. it's not like they're something important to him although it do made his eyes shine in fascination whenever he looks up to it.

no, he's not a cloud. he lived past those clouds. he wants to be a cloud. wants to be someone to look up to. wants to be someone to be proud of. wants to be someone good and cared to be drawn in a piece of paper to brag in bright blue shades as his eyes and say look, look! but maybe he's just hopeful. but it can't be. he's not supposed to hope, he's a celestial. but then again, he wants to be a cloud.

he wants to be a cloud to bask in the beautiful colors of your smile. he wants to be a heavy cloud, as much as he don't want to, whenever your heart weighs you. he wants to be a dark cloud to rain with you to make you know he's right there, though he don't know how to make you feel it, couldn't explain how it grip him in some way. is that even possible? an angel of the lord committed to his duties to have human feelings?

he doesn't know why he has to defend what he feels when the body forms scar tissues to close a wound, the scar would eventually fade away. with enough time, one might not even remember how they got them— so why? why won't this disfigurement of trepidation after your first death won't abandon him? why was it still there, in his mind, in his heart, and non-existent soul? why are you so stubborn, tough, so human that it's making him human, too?

how does he comprehend the unconditional love to someone who he never thought he were worthy of?

"i'm scared." he finally admitted. irises quivering on the whites of his eyes gushing precious crystalline of emotions he never knew he could shed as his voice falls to a whisper, a breath of fresh air lighter than anything he ever felt. don't even know if he should move a foot or move his arm. "i'm scared."