i don't want to be party to all that you want me to be, ever. miss a beat in the main point, tell me how i could be. vague terms; confused. ignore my way of thinking; shut down argument and go on your way.
sun glows neon-bright in the midday sky. this time of year, it's not warm. beams of light ripple through trees; trying to capture the image is fun. later, i crank the lever on a wishing well and toss some coins back.
they try to tell me that a true lady stays still. she doesn't explore. i choose to shove this aside, run through the best of a new adventure, and make a highlights display later. they don't think a lady should be her own person.
there's micro temptation in each way you create chaos here. carrot and the stick: i want to come back, to relapse. really shouldn't. maybe you could close yourself off for a day or two, let the dust clear, leave me be - i refuse.
clumsy hands move to light a line of candles, all shrouded in shadow. movements are slow, and inefficient. the goddess will not be pleased yet. she waits for a sign, ready to demonstrate her worship, and falters.
one quick breeze has arrived. it skims over the ocean, ruffles the water into peaks that are near-identical. white foam tops the crest before it dissolves, gone in an unseen pattern. on the sand, fish and chip papers rustle.
there's blush pink tinting the sky, glowing across too much space to fathom. a dress is dyed in dark pink which lightens as it dries: it remains unnamed. it's gone light, called blush pink, equal to the sky's tone and all quite by chance.