Stryker Lux | D9 {CB}
May 28, 2015 13:56:03 GMT -5
Post by Death on May 28, 2015 13:56:03 GMT -5
[googlefont="Fredericka the Great:400;"]stryker lux
My feet are bright yellow today.
Pebbles of glass-- like the kind that go in gardens and reflect the sun or that go in mosaics made by kindergartners who dare each other to eat the plaster-- fall from the sky, melting as they smack the ground and dribble into pools that are fun to tromp and stomp and splash through.
The day is gray and the streets are empty. Water beads along rooftops. I imagine they are tiny people, desperately trying to hold onto each other while gravity tries to rip them apart. Like they're holding hands while one dangles off the edge.
Once one drop is lost, however, it's always replaced by another, which I take as a comfort. Replacement isn't as difficult as might be surmised.
My feet are bright yellow, with tiny white daisies that make me smile.
I see your face in every ripple of a puddle. I hear your footsteps that crack the monotony of a downpour. I taste your lips with more cracks than a drought-ridden desert that bleed so easily. I feel the zap of excitement propel me forward every time I think you're near.
Sometimes it's hard to remember that there's only me now, until I listen and only hear my footsteps in the rain.
And so my bright yellow feet dance alone.
Pebbles of glass-- like the kind that go in gardens and reflect the sun or that go in mosaics made by kindergartners who dare each other to eat the plaster-- fall from the sky, melting as they smack the ground and dribble into pools that are fun to tromp and stomp and splash through.
The day is gray and the streets are empty. Water beads along rooftops. I imagine they are tiny people, desperately trying to hold onto each other while gravity tries to rip them apart. Like they're holding hands while one dangles off the edge.
Once one drop is lost, however, it's always replaced by another, which I take as a comfort. Replacement isn't as difficult as might be surmised.
My feet are bright yellow, with tiny white daisies that make me smile.
I see your face in every ripple of a puddle. I hear your footsteps that crack the monotony of a downpour. I taste your lips with more cracks than a drought-ridden desert that bleed so easily. I feel the zap of excitement propel me forward every time I think you're near.
Sometimes it's hard to remember that there's only me now, until I listen and only hear my footsteps in the rain.
And so my bright yellow feet dance alone.
A/N: Using Games CB (entered, not reaped) to complete!
