pavelius
like a moth to a flame. he watches the insect flutter precariously between life and death, along the rim of a lantern not far away from him. each time it beats its wings against the heated surface he can almost hear its wings singe with each touch.
every step he took was another reminder of the life he lived. a lifetime of regrets etched by the soles of his shoes. not even the sands of time could erased these.
he was there on the tightrope again, swaying from side to side as gravity gently tugged at his feet. the world seemed so far away— the lights of the circus far, far below him, somewhere distant, like a memory of childhood he struggled to recall.
he wondered what it was like to be in love. he never knew the dizzying nervousness in the pit of his stomach, or the flutter of lashes against a cheek— not even the frantic beatbeatbeating of a heart. but this would change, wouldn't it?