and they spoke in short static sentences, it was too hard to convey to one another that they were shallow and there for the wrong tempted reasons. I feel like in this story that one of them always slipped in to others, and if they could only feel what 10 years before brought, maybe then it would feel like wind when they were children. Always being in fields of flowers, planting seeds over their eyes, because they only wanted to see landscapes of waters colors blending together, even when it rained. It seemed that every day was a blast of increaslingly colder air. It only fed them longer to push through the mess that was left a long time ago. Sea of tears, released through orgasms, tall as mountains, and stonger than any grip when they held hand. They slept for ever, only when the sun is up and trickled tiny locks of past loves on their necks, as a reminder of what they can hold on to for ever. This would easly be forgotten. "stop playing around in other fields!, mine is lush and full of honey, the kind you can't taste just any where else, you know, where it drips down your lips and plays games on your heart." It was painless and hard at the same time, too see both of them lured in by bees from latin countries. They had brought with them poison and the fields starting dying, not even the sun was to bring back every thing that had be destroyed. In the future they saw each of them planting a garden away from the barren land, they wondered if the water between was rich enough to feed what each other wanted. Perhaps it was for the time being, or perhaps they just had diamonds in thier eyes?