A SIMPLE GRASP ! delicate yet not frail ; petals still blooming, curled inwards as if scared to blossom. his fingers HIS ! a symbol of freedom, war, and peace, tangle loosely, granting an option to DISENGAGE // when had he ever been such a choice before? it’s left unsaid, the undeniable yet foreign notion that he (my name is bucky ! ) can decide for himself. steve always makes sure his say is his own.
// ‘ YOU CAN ALWAYS SAY NO, BUCK. ‘
tired, worn, wary. his hand flesh and blood and nothing akin to the inhuman monstrosity, the atrocious weapon reminiscent of nails through palms grasps back tenderly ; a willow bending heed to the will of growth. ( RISE YOU TATTERED ROSE ! IGNORE THE THORNS DRAWING CRIMSON ACROSS YOUR LIPS ! )
he fits palm to palm, touch warm and jarring to a man so used to cold, cold, cold, cold !!
they sit, quiet. his lips don’t move. // ‘ THANKS, STEVIE. ‘ //they don’t have to.
