Jingling in her pocket was a sound. It sounded like any wealth that you would think would be of value. She was working hard for every moment that she was able to enjoy. He sat before her and thought of all that she was. She sat and wondered what it was that he lacked in his drive. She always felt that he would never get what he needed from her in an magnificent instant-illusion was love. He touched himself and thought of how hard she was. Vulnerable to the settling she wandered through his dreams to glance at how she really was, not how she was perceived. She talked, he looked and smiled. She waved her hands in a motion that avoided letting him know how lost he was for being by her side.
It had the motion of stillness within the sound of a whip of a belt across your own withered skin. Something had brought ever second past to this moment. Nothing in the future seemed like it had a reason to live in the past.
Blue was jealous of everything that red had. Red was intense, sexy and full of energy and fire. Blue always knew that being calm would be thought of serene and never barbaric and if this was the case, how was Blue going to ever leave the realm of being Green with envy? What a shame that Purple knew and told Yellow not to gossip with Green, it was between them. Yellow did and hid behind Gold.
A step down reaches up to a place where you will find him at the door. He is small in appearance but don't be fooled. Behind his pony appearance is a stallion. Behind his beard there is a glow of something that makes him seem mystical underneath it all. He can travel in time and space by simply wishing it to be. He feels everything in his gut through sensing the familiar unwanted. He may seem small, as I told you, but you musn't be fooled to think that you can defeat him. The light seems to fall on his shadow like he is some sort of angel floating through without ever being understood.
2 orange earings, hoops of considerable size-perhaps three inches. Glasses on the tip of her nose that allow her to hide away from the ones she rejects- she refuses to contribute to her cannibalism. Blood was some sort of attractive romanticism. In paintings it seemed noble, in books it seemed desperate with such sweet anguish. Queen. Leader. Temptation had led her to a place where she questioned anything she knew. Somehow the orange earings always felt right pressed against her neck falling from side to side. It may seem silly and materialistic but they were destined to be worn by her and seen to her.