i met a boy once, in the seabed of poppies. the lad was a mad depiction of the sun, hair like a spun of blazing warm sugar. skin like that of a blushing sapodilla fruit. it appeared as if though he was molded by the maidens of eden themselves. his name was, apollo.
or so they called him.
his presence would shy away the hardest of butterscotch in broad daylight. and then he would meld away by dusk, into the dense skies that he called his best friend.
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Juno
PoésieJuno. she is the summer in a thousand and thirty four ways. she aimed for the sun, because it felt just right. but she went too close, it scorched her skin with sweet warmth. And it made her stomach burn with honey, bees tickling and buzzing like t...
