"the sunrise is beautiful," she said to him and he'd think
He blew a hot, shaky breath, his hollowed cheek pressed against a cold, emptily thudding ground that rattled a leaf all colorless and sucked-of-life. It would disintegrate under exposure like impulse and disease, he knew, he knew too well.
i'm not afraid to die, because
It spread in his shattered-ice body. It had tainted his bones black already, stinking deep and sinister in the way of growing gravity and foolish choices. The crimson wouldn't seep back.
i was never made of stars anyway.