Floret

08

" You are an angel, beware of those who collect feathers. "

Perhaps when the sun had fully set, the moon in it's place hanging high, she would reveal those scrambled feelings of hers. They lay all over, like disheveled bed sheets and blankets they wait patiently to be fixed and set in place.

He had long since fallen slumber in her lap, maybe it was the result of her dress on his cheek or her scent in his hair, maybe it was, instead, the love in her words. Whatever it may be had comforted him, he found his solace in her sultry and advice, he had left himself vulnerable to her.

He was raw; flesh wounds open and awaiting to see whether she would dig her nails in deeper or if she'd stitch him up. Truth be told Cain feared both options, as if any touch would break him, which most likely is true.

The fragility of his mind was apparent to the girl and she considered this at least three times over.

The words inside her were bubbling, they begged to be let out, to be let free to wreak their wrath upon his sanity for he believed nobody ever loved him, nobody could ever love a simple street rat.

Especially not the privileged, prosperous girl who loved nothing more than tranquility and botany. He was not worthy of her, or at least those were his thoughts. Hers were a bit different.

She had fallen in love with his authenticity, his bluntness, his smile and vulnerability. It showed he trusted her, she had day dreams about him often.

They usually occurred whilst she sat in her recliner, a boring book in hand that she long since had stopped paying attention to that she only read to escape the harsh July sun. Kvet would often sigh contentment at her dreams.

In one of them Cain was sat beside her in the grass, his curls fragrant and tight, the dirt on his cheeks gave him character therefore she decided to keep those. Neutral toned paints scattered across his hands, calloused hands from survival all these years, calloused hands that she dreamed of caressing her milky skin.

A canvas lay before the two, pastel hues running up her arms in smiles, grins upon both of their faces, his voice carrying her name and following suit laughter. Then time would stop, the air crisp and fresh, they would take a breath. Steady inhales. And finally, the long awaited moment, they would kiss. Lips meeting gently, meekly even, with flesh upon flesh.

They would emerge with swollen lips and bruised necks, large hearts and love in their eyes.

But she knew it was only ever a dream.