Clouds.
The clouds are misshapen forms, great and humid. Soft to the touch and sweet when you feel them disintegrate in your tongue. Ready to give up at any moment to dissolve in the atmosphere. They cry, breathe deeply, their color even changes depending on their mood. They switch by emotion, gray with sadness, pink in finality, violet at the beginning, orange with regret. They walk through the sky and complete the largest blue painting you've ever seen. They walk the road of their lives up there but never down. They all go to the same destiny and follow the same path. Not one out of line. All of them together toward that place they know they'll stop.
Clouds.
Underappreciated and envious. It's a thumping love that humans have for the sun. A disgusting adoration they have for the moon. A stupid devotion they hold for the stars. ¿How can they love spheres of gas at thousands of miles? That's why the clouds want to be cherished, at least by someone. So people can stop cursing the day that a cloud decides to block their beloved sun. Those misshapen figures appear in the starred night. They look at the red and the silver roofs, as worn as the walls that keep humans from cold. They observe the sharpness of the night, more visible by the moonlight between the clouds than by the obstruction of their view. They give up sooner rather than later.
Clouds.
They have become my friends. They descend to my window, open the glass, slide through the yellow curtains and enter my room. They jump into my bed and take the pencils from my desk. They also check under the bed for any monsters or sneak into the walls to feel the fresh red paint. When they stop their inspection, they cover me in their humidity and misunderstood thoughts. They lift me into the air, lay me down under the warm blankets that usually cover the mattress of my bed. While they tell me stories, I slowly enter the depths of my dreams. In the mornings, they are once again in the sky. I always ask myself if these are illusions created by something else.
Clouds.
The clouds are my friends, and in return, I'm the only human that understands them.