cracked cement ramparts, a less than mighty bastion, swamp cooler overflow, drool down the battlement. behind the stockade walls, faceless generals barked orders to their private troops, drilled their little soldiers.
“welcome to my castle.”
you call this a castle? heat throbbing off the parking lot convinced me to chance crumbling stairs. and there, step four, flight two, i bumped into my white knight. okay, maybe more like gray. i’ll compr with silver.
but do they know how to craft fiction? do they know how to spin lies? his eyes swear forever, flatter with vows of only me. but are they empty promises? i stare into his eyes, as into a crystal ball, but i cannot find forever, only movies of yesterday, a sketchbook of today, dreams of a shared tomorrow. his eyes whisper secrets. but are they truths or fairy tales? i wonder if even he knows.