snow flakes and gunpowder.
And there she was, looking like she kept secrets in her handbag next to a small caliber pistol. The kind of girl who steps off of the screen in a 50’s noir film with a pistol in her hand, ready to defend her secrets to the dying end. Pale and beautiful in the fragility, her hanging limbs and smile spread thin. Making the hero thirsty for more and more, trying to siphon secrets like a vampire. Absorbing her life and digging deep underneath the skin with his fingers, trying to peel all of the information right out of her bones before she can pull the trigger. It’s all he wants, just minutes before the reel ends, like drinking from the grail and finding out all of the heavenly secrets. Let the clouds burst and pour down all of their sadness on us. Let’s pull the stars from the sky trying to find god, even if we make everyone else blind in the process. Let’s put the guns on the nightstand for now. They’ll be there in the morning.