"But what if I am not the one?"
He said to her silently, as silent as the innocent moonlight playing in her sinful messy hair.
She moved closer to him, the leaves rustling musically beneath her soft feet,
"Of course you are not the one, you damned broken boy, you are the half and I am the other, only together, two broken lovers, are we the one."
The hair along his skin rose, as her lips crushed into his cold and unsure ones.
YOU ARE READING
Beautiful Madness
PoetryThe Lonely Poet Love Letters to the wolf princess in blue Him and Her I write to pour out my feelings and my imaginations some of my poems may not make sense, but what is "sense" really? This is beautiful madness. Enjoy. Or Not. Victor Forna
