HOW WE ARE
"Why yes," she said, more of to the winds that blew through the tall grass than to her companion, "that is how we are."
The sandy-haired counterpart only smiled an endearing smile and replied in question. "You refer to me, am I wrong?"
"Perhaps." She pressed her pink lips together with a tightness that made them paler than her own skin, and redder than apples when she released them.
Then another period of quietude came upon them - just as it always did - and he reached to touch her shoulder. "And should I have taken it to be true, what would you have said, then?"
She breathed in the air of the country; the smell of the earth. Eyelids of hers drew close and her fine lashes brushed the mount of her cheeks.
"What I would have said?" She turned her back away from him, asking impassively with a smile that failed to reach her eyes. And these glimmered with bitterness, malice, and all things devious. Masking behind their guise love and a broken soul, they burned an angry green flame only he could see.
"Perhaps?" He asked again.
To this she only nodded, and slowly, slipped her fingers under his. With her soft lips she kissed his fingertips, and guided his hand to her throat. This, he hesitated. Nevertheless he felt her swallow, and he was drawn to the milky smoothness of her skin.
With the back of a trembling finger, he stroked her cheeks, now wet with the tears she'd failed to hold in. Then he stroked her hair, wild in the wind and fragrant with the smell of jasmine. Yet she smelt of death. And while his smile melted into one of enigma, feeling the crush of her slender being in his grasp, he gave it to her. For that is how we are.
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// No, I have no idea what crack I was on when this one came up. I just wasn't paying attention in lecture. Guilty as charged. Feedback appreciated. //
"Why yes," she said, more of to the winds that blew through the tall grass than to her companion, "that is how we are."
The sandy-haired counterpart only smiled an endearing smile and replied in question. "You refer to me, am I wrong?"
"Perhaps." She pressed her pink lips together with a tightness that made them paler than her own skin, and redder than apples when she released them.
Then another period of quietude came upon them - just as it always did - and he reached to touch her shoulder. "And should I have taken it to be true, what would you have said, then?"
She breathed in the air of the country; the smell of the earth. Eyelids of hers drew close and her fine lashes brushed the mount of her cheeks.
"What I would have said?" She turned her back away from him, asking impassively with a smile that failed to reach her eyes. And these glimmered with bitterness, malice, and all things devious. Masking behind their guise love and a broken soul, they burned an angry green flame only he could see.
"Perhaps?" He asked again.
To this she only nodded, and slowly, slipped her fingers under his. With her soft lips she kissed his fingertips, and guided his hand to her throat. This, he hesitated. Nevertheless he felt her swallow, and he was drawn to the milky smoothness of her skin.
With the back of a trembling finger, he stroked her cheeks, now wet with the tears she'd failed to hold in. Then he stroked her hair, wild in the wind and fragrant with the smell of jasmine. Yet she smelt of death. And while his smile melted into one of enigma, feeling the crush of her slender being in his grasp, he gave it to her. For that is how we are.
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// No, I have no idea what crack I was on when this one came up. I just wasn't paying attention in lecture. Guilty as charged. Feedback appreciated. //