BE WONDERFUL AGAIN .

THOUGHTS RUN RAPID.                  tongue  is  whiskey  cologne  ;  plucking  a  cigarette  from  a  red  and  white ,  dirt-stained  box  and  settling  at  his  lower  lip .   an  accented  vulnerability  ,  heinous  thoughts  of  rendering .  the  thick  cloud  escapes  at  the  corner  of  his  lips ,  a  journey  of   MILK  WHITE   against  the  heavy  dark  canvas  of  evening .  an  evening  gifted  calm ,  quiet ,  despite  of  the  sudden  presence  at  his  side .

neither  dared  to  speak ,  cut  through  silence  with  imposing  magnitude .  he  doesn’t  particularly  crave  brushes  of  affection  nor  of  a  sudden  company  ,  though  he  doesn’t  reject  the  offer  .  he  could  speak  ,  he  thinks  ,  though  courage  is  lacking  .  he  ,  disarrayed  in  exile  .  A  PAUSE AND A SIGH  .  the  cigarette  box  is  ultimately  gifted ,  despite  any  knowledge  of  the  other’s  habits  (  or the lack thereof  .  )  ,  pried  from  daryl’s  back  pocket  beneath  a  red  cloth  and  held  at  paul’s  reach  .

winter-skinned in naox. ash settles against his lower lip as smoke protrudes.   SPECIFIC INHALE.   a moment sought to tranquility, silence, boots dressed in particles of soot propped to the discolored and impure railing of  rick’s alexandrian home while his chair is settled on it’s back legs. it was a rare occurrence, though he’d taken it.  INDULGENCE.  creak against wood to his side is what draws his attention and awaits the other’s introduction. lips roam to taste at the corner of his lips, cerulean hues doing the same at his eye. burdened to bitterness. cigarette is set against calloused and bruised skin until the soft flame would die. a resonating sizzle, still taking note of the silence.  ❛   -            what  ?  ❜