His Loss, Your Loss.

It was a notion within his mind to be better that slipped silently by like the leaves fallen into the dead black creek. They'd quit the sky and wind and bothersome quarrels of flight and pennance terraced and dim across a milky sky like China smoldering across the way in its dim period. Muted tone. Duty born a loose leaf promise torn up in a heated moment while the brittle heaps raked up naked against the fence sum up an entire year burning. Delicate and cautionless, he entered the furthest banks with a mindless stare doing up his face like some sort of thick make up. He was hell bent and straightened up so taut as to afflict a note. Twinkling and gleaming like a broke music box in the castaway's palm. The water teems with carnivore melodies; lapping against, slathering, foaming against the rocks like teeth and spittle and careless banter emerging to the aghast crowd screaming out across the millions of miles of problems and love letters lest they be burnt and cast up into the sky with the coming of winter. Our loss is their loss, our broken heart bleeds out blood that came from another, the river leaves here and looses itself into everywhere else. The ashes of one's past breathes out over the vast plain of everything else and he feels like someone else took for granted what had been given to him. Together we'll look up one last time to see the last shooting star out there on the horizon eke out it's last brightness and we'll make our last wish in our heads like something cast in pink glitter and blowing in the bruised twilight of a dying day.