Copper and gunpowder stung his nose with each stunted breath. The bitterness of whiskey that sat too long in the sun burned the back of his throat. A familiar bite of pain he’d grown accustomed to over the years. He coughed through each swig; eyes shut to the faint glow of the moon enveloped in clouds thick enough to touch.

On his better days he could count the stars in his drunken stupor. Head twisted back to face the heavens as he listed off names that held on meaning to anyone eavesdropping. They called him crazy at the saloon down the dirt road—claimed he’d lost his mind in a gunfight gone wrong. That the bullet was still lodged in his brain.

Others ignored his sorry existence for the warmth of another.

He was angry—brash. He started fights with patrons who never cared to learn his story, nor the names carved into his ribcage. Titles of stars lined across the night sky. Of a woman who held him on the edge of death; her silver glow pacifying the terror he battled against.

They would never learn why his eyes fixed to the sky; the sun departed below the horizon. A whisper of goodbye pressed to the living as she reigned above.

“Selene,” he mumbled, clutching the bottle stained in crimson.

Blood trickled from his chest—heart a gaping wound without the presence of who he longed for. He couldn’t recall when the knife became entrapped in the confines of his chest. Twisting with each turn of the Earth. He simply knew that the spilling of his blood became a language he grew familiar with.

She left. A wisp of memory that covered him in a sheen of white.

Her name became a prayer he sent up to the sky—hope blurring his vision. The other half of his soul, trapped in an expanse of darkness.

“I promise.” His words were barely legible as he stood on shaky legs. “I’ll free you.”

The horse didn’t startle as he clambered into his saddle of dusty brown leather. She’d grown used to his vows whispered by the dying embers of a fire. The flick of her ears kept his words at bay; his hand struggling to raise the bottle to his lips by the time dawn reentered the sky.

Frigid air seeped beneath the layer of his coat, hat askew and tipped over his eyes as he squeezed his thighs with a click of his tongue. The sober hand of life beckoned him forth with a grim smile. Alcohol had become his savior, the grace of the good lord and all that hung above his head. A sanctity he blessed with cracked lips and a dry mouth—heart aching with the bitterness of life.

His soul rang with the church bell of death. The chime reverberated in the back of his mind, ticking down the hours of his life the further he wandered.

The clop of hooves became the only sound he heard for near a mile; his head tipped back to catch glimpses of his love. She remained. Solid, perfect. A celestial smile curved on her silver lips when he whispered her name with the reverence of a lover. She’d reverted to an angel who thrived in darkness; shrouded in the back of his mind.

“Our father,” he muttered, sipping the last of the amber liquid he clung to. “Who ain’t in heaven.”

A hill in the distance peaked up to the sky—grazing the bottom of the horizon. Softly tapping his heels into the horse’s sides he tossed the now empty bottle into the dirt. The path ahead was carved with lost hopes and dreams he’d never live up to. The gaping maw of his affection for a woman who wandered the skies.

“Hallowed be his name.” The words were a soft kiss of breath against his cheek.

He swallowed the stone in his throat as her voice entered his mind. Silk against calloused skin. The balm to his bleeding heart.

Clutching the reigns in his fists, he watched the clouds break from the sky—allowing her the freedom to roam the stars. A celestial being who danced with the Devil at night. Who brought cowboys to their knees begging for a hint of forgiveness as they lost their souls with the pull of a trigger. The bullet of life puncturing any promise left in their veins.

He’d stood in their place. Held the gun pointed to another, and watched as he missed his final mark. The duel of death now placed a claim on a soul not worthy.

“There ain’t no kingdom to come.” The sting of thin air atop the hill filtered through his lungs. “Give us a day to swallow the pain.”

He fell to his knees begging the moon for forgiveness, only for her to offer him love instead.

The acrid smell of burnt wood filled his nose. A fire he lit a day prior still roared, licking at the ground—begging for a taste of more. His boots hit the dirt, kicking it up as he walked with the steady gait of a man determined to fulfill his final wish. The trail of grief his heart renounced lay curled by the fire; lit with the fuse of his temperance.

“Forgive me darlin’,” he sighed, stopping at the edge of the fire—eyes turned to the moon that glimmered with apologetic words. “Forgive me for trespassing ‘cause those will do the same.”

His lips curled into a smile as silver gleamed in the haze of his tear filled vision. Pale fingers entwined with his, silver emanating along the ground as a gown draped off the cliff-side. Lips caressed his jaw with an echo of peace; forgiveness he’d never get. Serenity he’d one day hope to claim.

“Lead me to temptation,” he breathed, feeling her touch crawl to the back of his neck, tipping him closer. “Deliver me to evil.”

“As you wish,” she whispered, curling her hand into his.

“Amen,” he muttered; breath cresting at the top of his lungs as she dragged him to the sky. Welcoming him to the heavens above with the faint whisper of love.