Dancing with you until the sun
Becomes the moon
Where I touch your hand
And hold you like a silent night
Where language of words may have never been spoken way to soon than before the last glass of the night but dancing with you until the sun rises in the morning
But becomes the moon as quick as you can say silent night of roses where words only reflect on the pens of paper where if you look you can see just the words on the paper that are of me and the sounds of you and I dancing until the sun comes up.
YOU ARE READING
Living inside of the closed spaces of my mind
Short StoryThe close-minded truth I thought I could keep secret between you and me and by that I mean between the pages and me but I guess nothing ever stays kept secret for long because once you open up the pages you begin to expose the truth behind the words...
