Rain causes panic. Their heads are spinning, running maniacs lost in the fog. They’re walking dead, slaughtering souls that cross their paths. The trauma of born monsters and deformed hearts, rippled from the cause of their own explosion. An explosion that once predicted, but left the world in black and white. A grey scale vision for the hurt and reckless.

“You’re creating a monster; the old me can never return. Because of you,” he says.

His fingertips slide on the surface of her. Can they stand to live in the present and forget the past? Break the boundaries of time, or live with both in one. A traumatic bomb of lost love.

Ashes hail on their naked bodies; they lie still. Buried under as ghosts. Dizzy from the gaze of each others eyes. Fainting with every blink and lost memory they slaughter as time moves around their corpse.

Flowers bloom and clouds ploy, the sun rises and the moon’s petrified. Stuck in experiences that will never be, again. Stuck in memories because they can’t get away from what they’re seeing and once saw.

She lifts her hands. With a slow swift, her fingers glide through his curly baby hair. Soft yet self dominant, hard to break apart. Buried alive, her fingers split the bond of his living twirls.

Sunshine breaks through the cracks of the only window, it’s day three and she smells like cherries. Her skin covered in pearls, his skin shines like gold but chaos will prevail. Static will disrupt, after the bomb has been dropped. “Like you. I forgot,” she says as the rain erases away gold ashes and precious pearls.