Paul took a step closer, the charred black smog from his lips dissolved into my lungs, as he stared at me with his slow-burning teal eyes. His fingers steadily undid my aching body, as he pried the lace from my skin to undress me.
"I'll break you, s...
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(Paul's POV)
I've taken thousands of steps, but yet I do not move. My feet slowly saunters into a bright and better tomorrow. Such gentle discourse in the loneliness, so my vision never falter.
We are not governed by time, but the way we make things mean.
When the sun sets, it's quiet presence wanders behind purple lily skies. The last bright tangerine hue fades behind the drapes, as the blood colors merge into the sea.
Tiny silhouettes peep behind the looking glass, waiting for the light to simmer behind the mountains. I love to watch the birds streak across the infinite heavens; rippling colors and feathers in the null blue.
My day is done, and it feels like the last show. Something grand is coming to an end and darkness is a semblance for all we've let slip away.
The world is our theater, and we are trapped in fates performance.
So, yes I choose to spend my long drawn out days, walking, and waiting for the sun to descend behind the horizon of our redolent times; a wanderer looking for a purpose.
"You can't sleep here you know that?" Ed yawned tiredly. The night was upon us, a symphony of crickets chirped, as they worshipped the glittering stars.
"Where am I supposed to go?" I grumbled, my body still sore from the last man.
The cans and bottles clanked in the trash bag Ed was struggling to carry.
I helped him take the weight off his shoulder.
"You know, there's a shelter ten miles down the road" he whispered out of breath.
I nodded my head, we've had this conversation several times before. It always ends with profanity.
"I can't have you sleeping behind the trashcans!" he lectured firmly.
"Why because it's bad for business?! Does it make your precious store look less appealing to locals?" I spat bitterly, giving him a look that was meant to scorn his existence.
Ed, wiped his brow, "no because, it breaks my heart every night to go to bed, safe, and warm, knowing that you can't have the same experience" his voice cracked.
The lines of time wore on his wrinkled face. The youth was wrung out and sunken in his round cheeks. I studied the ways his bones creaked when he bent over with slow deliberation and cautious movements.
