Everything Cinnamon

"We're going for heartbreak babe," he said to me as he laid cool petals at my feet. "We're going for oceans and runways and wild things." Looking at him I couldn't deny any of it, pure honesty was lingering in his boyish grin. "And will we know fury and everything cinnamon?" I replied.

"Oh, but we will know shoestrings divided and torn calendars. We will bathe the thick summer air with heavenly ideals. These will be matched only by the red rooms of our minds."

"But why is the room red?" I asked.

He picked up my hand and turned it over, one finger finding the pulse in my wrist. He starts tapping out a bloody rhythm against thread bare skin. Those underestimated eyes come to outline the keyhole to my apprehension.

"I told you sweetheart, we're going for heartbreak."