Her kindness becomes cruel and almost unjust because of how persistent, (no matter what)
and a lopsided fire fluttering in the fireplace
mimics their gestures with infuriating accuracy (puppets peeking at the riggings)
He was worth dressing for, understood her ambiance, and this was one of her lesser reasons
for loving him, he was also belligerent with ambition which meant for all the preemptive regret he possessed
a superficial vitality, almost abnormal discretion, but closely observed one sensed a secret fatigue (there would never be enough)
A catalyst of the quiet that simultaneously kept them together and apart
(they understand what it means to be helpless, to have an outlet that never exceeds the mark)
It doesn't matter whose fault it is. We all, sometimes, leave each other out there under skies, and don't know why
He gave a slight pressure to their interwoven fingers
Some slur in her eyelids surfaced as bridges and collapsed where happiness is an accident replenished by accidents, and collapsed
Lieutenant, my corpse would not stop burning
in the hallucination.... these damn amphetamines... I wasn't actually suffering, a piece of his smile flies past me in my sleeplessness it resembles a shield or slow ash we didn't feel falling–
Leaving, she considered kissing him on the cheek but settled for shaking his hand
