Pungent cologne intoxicating my lungs, I

Pungent cologne intoxicating my lungs, I couldn't breathe. He was

Infiltrating my journal with his curiosity. He kept one himself, and never allowed me to see it. I didn't want to see it anyway. He only used black ink, I used all colours of ink.

What use was it anyways if you didn't use colors? Life was too vibrant to just use black. I remembered when I was like him, neglecting the world's colors, until that day years ago.

I was able to find a paintbrush and colored paint, and began painting into a wall. I physically lost myself in my painting. But the Black Paint Guy climbed into my painting & began

doing a crazy little dance, painting black lines all over my work as freaky, dreamlike Samba music played in another room. "You're ruining my painting!" I screamed at him, but he

were ruined by his reference to me as "my peach" and also the fact that, dammit, he really couldn't dance. "It takes two to tango, my fuzzy little coconut," smiled & grabbed his

unit, as a handle. That got his attention. I brought my body in close to his & led him around to the music. I grabbed a rose from one of the tables & put it in his mouth. A tango

ensued between the two of us. Now a tango is usually between lovers, but we are simply friends. "No homo bro," I muttered so that he understood. He took the rose out of his mouth

and placed it in my jacket pocket. "No homo," he agreed, voice breathy. Our eyes locked and his thumb traced my lower lip. We kissed, and sparks flew. "Bros being bros," I said.