"Your poems are too cold and mysterious." She commented after reading what he had written.
"We're to write about what life mean to us but you're writing about death."
Keeping his face straight he replied.
"That's life for me. It's not a bed of roses like what you write about. My life is darkness and pain, I write the truth."
YOU ARE READING
The Light For My Darkness
Short Story#301 in short story. She was his light but he didn't realize. He was the darkness that couldn't be seen. Light crosses darkness. Darkness meets light. Will he reject his light? Cover by me. All Right Reserved©
