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Grey eyes

Engel's picture
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"You're just doing me," she said with those terribly clever grey eyes. And she was right. 

Then she went on to call me heartless, just another sucker who's lost it all in the apocalypse. A piece of me was burned away, she said, and now I was always seeking that little something in the comfort of other people. She will have no more of it, she said. I knew she was wrong there. We went on to see each other a few more times. And that was it.

But now, looking back at when I started hanging out with Pam, I think she was right all along. I wasn't with her for those thighs, for the prestige or those terribly clever grey eyes. I was in it for love.
Pam could never understand that. For her, "LOVE" was just something you ink on your knuckles. A four letter word like "help", "fuck" and "soul".

When I met her, I knew she was not the one. But she would do. 

The tattoo on her lower back read "Easy Rider". I didn't even grin when I approached. She told me: "If you have a beard and dig Tom Waits, we can talk." 
So I grew a beard. It took me a month. I had no idea who this Tom was but I figured I was half way there.

There being deep inside her embrace. She radiated a comforting aura of home. I can't explain it. I'm not wordy.

That's what I told her, with my beard and stolen leather jacket: "I'm not wordy."

She fell for it.

Those terribly clever grey eyes.






Veronica Volt's picture

I do not think he is heartless, just a fallen angel wandering the wastelands.

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