you're not real.

they played the game of eternal questioning. "first impression of me?" this air of unquenchable curiousity. her breath, bated hot anxious and rolling yet light with this maimed promise of beginnings. "I thought you had the brightest smile I'd ever seen, actually." and so it began. light. airy. but heavy with this impending doom. the world's gonna crash and his comic book heroes don't exist. "I think I love you." park bench kissings teeth crash as the buildings start to fall. his taste all-consuming. struggles of our own. her cheeriness like a painted clown. jeering and too bright for this constant dusk; she got too close. they played the game of eternal questioning. "why?" this air of unquenchable curiousity. a city in flames falling down down down and you don't breathe in this air you choke and your lungs get small and you swallow the fire because you need to know. "things change." at least the flames were golden.