He borrowed the darkness of the night and spread the black, starless landscape on his face; serpent-like pair of eyes, and a beard redolent of sin, gunmetal in hue, and fatal to touch. This man is resemblant of a bullet; awaiting me is either a wave of safety after pulling the trigger or a burst of detrimental damages imbued with remorse. So I did what any sane woman would do; any time my fingers itched to stroke his bearded face, I muffled a pen in the crevices of my fingers to bury the urge. And I learned to look away.
WARS & CALAMITIES 