a boy that zeus and hera oh so delicately
sculpted with nimble fingers. sits upon gold and riches. ichor flowing through his veins his sun-kissed skin glowing like mount olympus. orbs gleam milky ways ( as it draws you into a black abyss ). an angel sent from heaven they say. a sweet little child with hues of marigold bringing blush to his cheeks and those pouty tulip lips always smiling.
leo moreau grew horns he desperately hid beneath his chestnut hair. dictated by red manicure nails and perfectly tailored black suits.
while heather sinclair had locks dark as ink and short as his life. lungs filled with cigarettes and regret ( as it chokes him to death ). milky skin gashed with crimson scars as bandages decorate it to hide his hurting. he tastes like lavender and bitter laughter and he huffs a glimpse of heaven as the smoke from his lips bleeds into the atmosphere
like moreau he too in despair concealed who he really was.
