(no subject)
Five.
She was the mermaid in rapture, the Rapunzel of a cobalt ocean. On the edge of delight and despair, she sat on the edge of the world, looking down into a moon crater. The end was just a single step away. She sat on the rim, flipping her legs like a princess of the sea, smoking her cigarette in elegance. The smoke formed billows around her as she teetered over the boundary and giggled.
The end of the world? How unreal.
Four.
He was the weight on her ankle, the burden captured in her locket. She wore him permanently around her neck as he dangled from the (nearly) ruined kite string. While he watched her sit on the ledge, the oceanic pool of moon, he waited behind. She laughed as he worried that she might fall into eternal midnight. The delicate strands of smoke trailed behind her as he lingered.
The end of the world? How original.
Three.
She was the frail figurine sitting on the sidewalk of a busy New York City street in her wedding gown. He was facing her on the opposing side in his tuxedo, seeing her like a flipbook through the beams of city light. Their butterfly kisses were made on the bustling walkway, right as the moon shown like rays of sunlight beneath the earth. The stained glass surrounding the stars was illuminated, creating flecks of ruby above the slinkster boys and city mermaids.
Two.
It was a time far past, an age long forgotten. He was the terra cotta figure that would hold this figurine’s hand as they watched the moon craters from the edge of the earth.
And they leap, jumping in beauty, in grace. The girl jumps for the thrill of a new adventure; the boy jumps to have a better view of the metallic shards of glass.
One.
He knew he has leaped off the edge of the earth.
She forgets she just took her last breath.
She was the mermaid in rapture, the Rapunzel of a cobalt ocean. On the edge of delight and despair, she sat on the edge of the world, looking down into a moon crater. The end was just a single step away. She sat on the rim, flipping her legs like a princess of the sea, smoking her cigarette in elegance. The smoke formed billows around her as she teetered over the boundary and giggled.
The end of the world? How unreal.
Four.
He was the weight on her ankle, the burden captured in her locket. She wore him permanently around her neck as he dangled from the (nearly) ruined kite string. While he watched her sit on the ledge, the oceanic pool of moon, he waited behind. She laughed as he worried that she might fall into eternal midnight. The delicate strands of smoke trailed behind her as he lingered.
The end of the world? How original.
Three.
She was the frail figurine sitting on the sidewalk of a busy New York City street in her wedding gown. He was facing her on the opposing side in his tuxedo, seeing her like a flipbook through the beams of city light. Their butterfly kisses were made on the bustling walkway, right as the moon shown like rays of sunlight beneath the earth. The stained glass surrounding the stars was illuminated, creating flecks of ruby above the slinkster boys and city mermaids.
Two.
It was a time far past, an age long forgotten. He was the terra cotta figure that would hold this figurine’s hand as they watched the moon craters from the edge of the earth.
And they leap, jumping in beauty, in grace. The girl jumps for the thrill of a new adventure; the boy jumps to have a better view of the metallic shards of glass.
One.
He knew he has leaped off the edge of the earth.
She forgets she just took her last breath.