there was gold laced through his feathers, and gold scorched into his eyes, and it seemed unfair that the only ones who could bear to look were each other.

wheat ripened, gold in the pastures. gold fields soaked up the light. two warm bodies watched the sun melt into rivers of the stuff that trickled through the crops.

the string that bound them was gold; never green but fragile, dangerous gold.

and when they kissed for the first time, their whole world turned shining; into that decadant, fleeting gold. and when they held hands, their fingers melded together, glazed over with gold fire that crawled up their veins and gilded them. and when their eyes met, everything shone, and everything turned that perfect shade of gold- molten, blazing gold against black, against grey and red; glowing, spitting, crackling on wood grain. they learned to live in it, to wade through it. to memorize it.

jimmy and tango were nothing but gold- fiery gold.

but we've all read the book.

we've all read the tragedy.

we've all grown somber at crimson and gunmetal, chocolate cake and grape jelly all bleeding into one in a fountain, all coughing up smoke together.

we've all mourned as gold turned to grey.