All colors can be retrieved, black painted over with red, blue painted over with green, but blankness once painted over cannot be redeemed.
Hazel eyes, sharp features painted on a canvas of a strong skin yearning to crack and a smile capable of turning a Picasso palette blank.
She smiled.
They spoke of dolls and guns, of pink and green and how brown is dull. Of gods and promises, of heaven and hell and an eternity lost over an apple. A moment he cherished above all else. Her scent established a way to his brain while his arms found a reason to exist.
Thrusts and sighs, hyperventilation and pounding flesh, muscles erecting for others to relax while pressure shivers through sweaty bodies.
They shared a cigarette, gazing at the space around and how thankful they were for every life event that led to this night, they shared books and authors, Music and lyrics, quotes about existence and fate and how religions should not be about hate.
She, hazel eyes and a smile among other things… he would later forget.
Z... space 