Lion Head Mesa [m] chorro

he wondered if he was in danger with her. not the kind that comes from blood and teeth. no, no. he thinks she is the kind of danger that came from dreams and stardust.

he should not be charmed by broken glass — but he does not want to think of her like that.

olive eyes gazed upon an old stain, as if he might live through her in these memories she spilled. until suddenly he felt spun around her. dazzled in a way that disarmed him so deeply that he was unsure if he'd ever recover. her boldness to be here and his unfamiliarity in what felt like intrusion.

no, he breathed out and felt the warmth of a wall behind his back. maybe he should gaze upon the room and worship it, but he is scared that if he looked away from her she might become nothing more than a dream. will you tell me?