Myst

Her beauty slithers through the night. She’s champagne, bubbling beneath a crescent moon. She comes around without warning. A warm soul, burning with a passion when others are just so lifeless. The spice in her veins. The truth of her footsteps. On thin ice, we dance because we mean it. We bleed because we feel it. In a pretty dress, she’s just herself. Pain and embarrassment, not denied but remembered. All those days of shame, scrapped off and cast aside like trash. Truth and honesty, more sensual than a million painted faces. The nature of who she is, more real than a world full of shadows. It’s in her chemistry. In the way she smiles without fear. Those timeless moments of time, when she brightens even the most hopeless of souls. To dream yourself away. To be in her arms with everything else left behind. Cold winter mornings, alive like the love in her eyes. We shiver like black eyed dogs, and although we’re little more than strangers, we become as one through the language of the soul. Together we are blameless. Through devotion to a greater cause, we shine brighter than a billion dying stars. Tongue tied through butterflies. Mirrored like angels, swimming in a sea of catastrophe.

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