My hands were quick. Moving about my possession. There it was. Soft. Tender. Bloody. Snow fell outside. Moving about all our possessions. There it was. Soft. Fragile. White. The contrast of such words haunt me, currently. It’s those ups and downs, which every town has, that lead me to long for my sailing vessel.
Shots rang out across the field where I was standing. For love. Love of country. It was 1845. My boots were better made than the ones you’re wearing, currently. It was most certainly a conundrum of sorts. Listening to those words you say to me. Listen, those horse imprints sounded louder when a man mounted himself upright upon such. It wasn’t the power I sought after it was the feeling of being safe.
She’s cold as ice. She’s worried about her safety. Everyone can see it. Trust in me, that chosen book you’re reading is less obviously obvious. The ice shatters eventually. Or is it glass? Offer me something I’ll enjoy. Offer me something I’ll be motivated to make love to.
My hands were quick. Guilty. Lightning struck our lips as all two of our own touched. It was a terrible touch. In that moment there was a wall built. It shan’t keep me hidden. But it shan’t keep me safe lest. Lest. Less of it all. The all. The total. The ice…
We moved so carefully in a half orb as our feet placed each time offset together. Your heart lifted me to heaven. I was dead inside and you resurrected my bellows. I have bellowed in laughed as such never in history. I was in love. Your eyes, colored in like ice. Blue. Bluer than a sad mans grief. Bluer than the clearest of Mexican waters. Bluer than the suns hottest flare. We spoke. Heaven. Connections upon connections upon connections upon connections. Godliness.
Green grass soften the blow my feet were taking from within my boots. They were brown. Brown leather, similarly to a bulls stern shoulders. I feel to my knees. The bullet went inside my head and out my ear area. What a blow. The projection of the silver plated lead object sped through my mind as if it was absent. I thought it had been, before I triggered the hammers approach. Green was the mans stomach who found me lying on such natural cushion.
White laced silhouettes meandered briskly in circles. Looking for ice, I saw the blue. Blissful. There she was. I must be dreaming, I thought carefully. She touched me. I disconnected back to another type of connection I had once felt. “You’re here?” Those words swung across the light into my ears. “I am here.” I said to her. She smiled. I smiled. No pain. No lead. No green. Just blue. Just the blissful.