She makes to leave with cold eyelashes, doing not comely. For fair, it is she who may take her leave at her convenience. It computes.
How many steps along in the process further than she does the nerf balloon man behold?
One sees the distance, but one knows one's peg is still planted in the motionless now. He says "the dew on your mascara has gotten fat and tepid, and I feel the gravity of your eyes on me..."
Nerf balloon man spanks her for response, which returns moist and repetitively as it always has. He is behind her again, after all.
"My butterfly, I've fixed you here." Is how he finishes. She, for fair, will be here for years to come.
"You are free, making long at the door, but the danger of bringing your eyes once so close to mine..."
A mouth open is always now, be the eyes however far gone- hers, lovely, not the containment but the expression in wet skin of abundance.
"...I will always come faster than you can go."
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