her curls become sunset when she frolics into the shade and it frightens him. like penultimate Hemingway, he can’t stand to confront the inevitable pain that lies near.
is it over already? the beginning. gold fades to orange like an over-worn oxford. curls wrap her ear like a secret and release the tawny flecks of her irises to overwhelm surrounding skies. your eyes look like sunset.
grins chuckles slices of hand. can’t ignore it. ringlets of fire burn stroma pierce retina. grabs a spool and allows it to spiral his finger. proximity stings but he ignores it. tan and white. bronze & gold.
confusion > pain. four w’s and an h looping his mind like a first kiss. ensnaring it. pops would be ashamed to witness this were he present. never was. he’ll claim unaffected until metaphor becomes reality and the sun don’t set no more cause time will have dipped too. endless time. time endless.
don’t let time end this.
