In metaphor, pure as New York snow, turns out faint flurries weren’t amongst the only things absent this fair winter. Enter stage the alpha, an honor society gal and her jovial encounter with courtship. For him it was the denouement of his social gamut, an enduringly winded expedition of random occurrences. Much to the contrary to hers, the dawn of a precocious floret on awakening and curious flight.
I may not be the sharpest of pencils, but I do know casual casualties were never meant to be taken. No matter how teased or uneased the atmosphere, we inclined ourselves aboard moped chariots and the city became truly ours. Sinuously through harmonics, the minor third, the fourth and the occasionally augmented fifth, curving upwards and back down again. Fashionably tuned, knowing just what it took to make even the darkest of crows blush.
All I ever wanted was to get to know you a little better, powers that be knew I really did try. Now that lengthy park strolls equal closure, we can take refuge and surrender to the place that is anywhere else but our overactive minds. Another empty canvas if you will, unhinged and unbounded, void of all form and color, widely bright and pale as Bette Davis eyes.