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The picture is already painted inside my head.  
You stand there, shoulders curved towards my own- eyes tracing shoulders smaller than your own.  

I stand near, but do not reciprocate.  Eyes turned slightly downcast- lips framed ever so downwards.

We do not speak yet minutes still pass us by.  

When your mouth opens, a breath slides out with an entrance. 

You’re tired, you say.

But, I’m exhausted, I reply.

The hands change from 3 to 5.  Yet there’s still little progression in our lives.

I do not have any more words left to craft- do not have any truths left to speak.  But do you?  What do you have to bring me?  

An open casket of mixed greens and cauliflowers.  But which is yellow, and which is green?  Can you even differentiate the strands apart?  

I know what it is that has to be done. But, giving is so hard no matter how little.

If it was indeed love like you proclaimed, then will it be the same love that saves us?

I feel that this will be our last.

“Oh, you know what to do.”

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“Do you know the muffin man?

The muffin man, the muffin man.

Do you know the muffin man?

Who eats from dawn till night.

Oh, do you know the muffin man? 

The muffin man, the muffin man. 

Do you know the muffin man?

He sees all and hears all- so keep your fingers crossed little ones, that he might not enter through your house tonight.”

The little fish watched the silenced waters with half opened eyes, and with every trickling breath, took in its shimmering embrace.
Green blue mixtures of blue green dyes provided shade from the sun up high, bringing the little one some much needed relief.

It was much too hard to be alone, but far too difficult to close the gap between the humans and the sea.

‘No one dares to understand,’ the half lidded fish thought to himself, ‘the utmost importance of where we should each place ourselves in.’
‘There’s the land, then there’s the ocean blue– far too wide yet far too narrow for travelers to cross.’

He closed his eyes, the way most little fishes tend to do, and let the shallow waters trickle past his scaled figure.

It was a lack of trust; an insignificant amount of restless emotion that threw him down under.  Down past the Hollow’s Eve, and over and under the Healer’s Lips that made him cringe with fear and wallow in self misery.

It was Dark at his door and Darkness that greeted him during those quiet nights among the silenced blue green waters.

He was frightened; scared silly of petty notions of love and the unloved.  Of being loved while being unloved.  Of a love without love.

But there was nothing he could do, nothing that would free him of these silly woes and worries. Nothing that would warm him during the coldest nights and treat his ailing heart with its thundering beat.

And so he swam… Swam past the Hollow’s Eve, and over and under the Healer’s Lips, and wept.

He wept until the sea cried, and wept until his scales dried over, and wept until the nights transitioned to days, and days into timeless oblivion.

Where he stationed himself for the rest of his entire being, stuck in between the moon and the sun, and the stars and the skies, for all of eternity.

The end.

“But, what if the sinking feeling never goes away?” the little girl asked the man in black.

He replied with a quick shake of the head.  “The sinking feeling never goes away, my dear child.  It’s just there.”

Then, there was a pause, and a sigh.

“You just have to learn how to cope with it.” He said.  “That’s life.  You just cope.  Or you’ll sink and fade away into nothingness.

And that’s where we are right now, my dear friend–

at that empty place we call nothingness.”

“If you were to touch the inside of my toes and nibble the soft webs of my feet, I would call you my healer,” he murmured into her ear.

She picked at her nails without even a glance at his wiggling toes.  “And what would you do in return?”

The lights were off, and the shadow’s breeze had a slight edge to it.

“I’ll pay you.” He replied, placing his feet on top of the covers. “However much you want- just name it.”

Her nose picked up on the scent of molded ashes and cigarette smoke.  Stifling back a silent curse, she smiled.  “I don’t need money, honey pie. Haven’t you heard? That’s not how I work around here.”

Unable to hold back his urges, he crinkled up his toes and let out an impatient sigh. “Okay, I don’t care. Name your price– I don’t care. Just get to it.”  He settled down onto his seat and kicked his foot out.  “I’ll do whatever you say, so for Christ’s sake, get to it.”

She brushed back a strand of her hair and tucked it behind her ear with excruciating deliberateness.  “As long as you’re willing…”
And after settling into a comfortable position, she bent forward and let her tongue circle around the tip of his pinky toe.

His breath came out shaky.  “Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn.”

And when she nibbled on the edges of his skin his foot shook uncontrollably.  “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Blowing onto his wet skin, she oozed her lips open and let his toe feel the coolness of her tongue.
It wiggled around for a second or two before scratching the sides of her teeth.

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.”

He pushed deeper inside of her, sliding the rest of his toes inside her mouth.

“Fuck, shit, fuck, fuck, fuck.”

He pushed deeper inside of her, ignoring her grunts.  “I’m close.”

She sucked on his big toe and pulled out quickly with a loud plop.  “You’re close?”

Forcing it back inside her mouth, he yelped.  “I’m close. I’m close. I’m close. I’m close. I’m close.”

Suckling it as if it were a baby’s bottle, she pressed her teeth against his nails, and scraping it from side to side, she toyed with it.

“God damn woman,” he moaned into the folds of his shirt. “You’re fucking amazing, do you know that?  Fucking amazing.”

And then, as if a switch turned off, she stopped.

She pulled the disgusting foot out of her mouth, wiped the edges of her lips, and turned towards his wide eyed face, swiping at his cheeks for good measure.

Then she smoothed out her shirt, fluffed up her hair, and walked towards the door.

“Bye bye, honey pie,” she whispered, blowing him a kiss. “Don’t forget now, next time you’re all mine.”

 

Her eyes were morning’s sunshine to me.
It woke the undead with it’s brightness and consoled those hidden within the darkest of nights.
The soft nape of her neck tasted slightly of daisys dipped in warm honey.  Her scent musky with a tinge of lemon drops.

This is only a sliver of what love has done to me.

It has stolen my entire being, my conscience.  It stripped me of rawness, making me utterly vulnerable to its attacks.

The word love doesn’t do justice to her benevolent nature.  It belittles her.  Leaves a cigarette stained mark on my tongue.

Her beauty can only be defined as heaven’s grace’s grace.  So gentle and kind that even the rotten ones shame themselves with dignity.

I loved her, more than words, stories, or adjectives can ever express.

I would betray all of mankind for her.  Leave them for the fires to envelop.

But as much as I have loved her, she was unable to understand the language of love– the flaw that ultimately destroyed us.

So I threw mankind down into the fires, summoned the beast of Neverland, and drank from the lips of death.

For love without love is a life without breaths.

Pointless with it’s futile attempts to fulfill something that can never be fulfilled.

Goodbye my morning’s sunshine, and goodbye to my honey glazed daisys.

I have loved you deeply and sincerely, more than words, stories, or adjectives can ever express.

He pinched the edges of her fingertips and slid them through the opening of his lips. 

He caressed them gently from the inside out, wetting them thoroughly in the process.

His tongue scratched the surface of her nail beds– the mixture of iron, sweat, and dirt consuming him whole.

She muffled her yelps, whines, and coos as he suckled it softly with just the right amount of pressure (the pressure he unfortunately knew all too well).  

He toyed with them with his tongue, nibbled on the softness of her skin, and continued to slide them inside and out.  Inside and out. Inside out.

He sucked; he bit.  He rammed them tips against the back of his throat.

Her coos turned into protests.

His gag reflex turned up a notch.

She yanked her fingers out of his mouth, her nails catching the ridges of his throat.
She screamed and whined.  Protested with all her might.  He forced her hand through the loops and dark mazes.  

It twisted and turned.  

Eyes bulging out of his sockets. 

His urges more violent and sudden.

Then all was calm; The sea turned red.

And her fingers rested where a dead man now laid.