jujyfruit
The shutters are covered in peeling paint, one hanging, threatening to fall right off. He shutters his eyes, willing away the instincts to imagine ghosts where there aren't any.
Patch it up, bit by bit. All the holes in his being, caused by her presence. He should fix them-- no, they add character... He can't decide what to do.
His hand clamped down, fingers inadvertently digging into her arm. "Don't go, please," he said. "I need your help." He look even paler than usual, and his eyes were wide in desperation.
"Okay," she said, heart beating wildly, "I'll stay with you tonight, you're going to be all right. Just breathe, okay? Breathe."
He knows that she know and they both keep wondering why the other doesn't do anything about it, the elephant in the room. "Their relationship is deteriorating, a friend observes, and apparently they want to stand there and watch it wither." But the truth is that they are paralyzed by fear.
The people scattered in front of him like so many particles of light, spinning and racing away. He couldn't see through the glitter in his eyes; maybe they were just dancing. The drums behind him vibrated in his ears.
Skin as soft as silk. Eyes like dark chocolate. Lips like strawberries. And oh, the dirt that stains them. In a voice of velvet, no less. You are an enigma. I think I know everything.
Like a poison you seep through my veins, permeating every part of me. Like a poison you're insidious, dark, cunning. Like a poison you taste bitter on my lips. Like a poison you sting my heart. Like a poison you seize my mind.
You're killing me, but I don't want to purge you.
Photo booth phone booth restaurant booth. Small places where secret things can happen. Anonymity.
He sat in the booth, way back in the dark, and observed people. It was boring at first, but soon he latched onto individuals that were interesting in the little quirks that they thought went unnoticed.
"Feel my wrath," he proclaimed, laughing maniacally. She just eyed him sideways. "Seriously?" she said. "You're about as wrathful as a teddy bear."
"Ah, but you see," he replied, "there's lots of nasty things teddies can get up to. Haven't you seen the-- the, uh-- the music video? You know, the one by Muse..." And he toppled over with laughter.
"Yes, yes, very funny," she said flatly. "Right, no more schnapps for you!"
"I told-- you I could-- hold my liquor," he said between guffaws.
"Mm, but you fibbed."
Always forgotten. Every single time. He'd go to sing the words, get two lines in and then nothing. He regretted it, their collaboration. He could no longer sing those songs that her words were woven into now that he'd left her. He'd forever have a reminder of their long relationship; there was no escaping what they'd been through. And now she was gone. He wrote over their history with someone new.
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the words you reach for
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