Post #2263974

stray droplets slip down and over my visor, tears from god shed in lieu of my own, mourning the loss of flesh and of its memory long discarded. the shell is as cold steel, the ghost as warm as any body. the optics precise and perfect, the mind behind them fluid and fickle. the scent of petrichor and the caress of the wind are the same as they have always been, in the before and in the now, for you and for me