She looks into his eyes and sees a storm.
He senses it,
the little raven learning to fly.
He walks.
He watches her,
the crow weeps her sins.
He speaks to her,
her voice is like that of a siren,
luring him in to have the waves devour him.
He touches her,
it's not enough.
We
The two of them,
in a single two letter word,
though by crows,
satisfaction fills him.
He learns to breathe again around her,
to smile,
to laugh,
to be weak,
to have a name.
He'll wait as long as it takes,
even if he hates it.
She'll come with him to his destination,
more accurately a visitation.
And one day,
perhaps...
...
She looks into his eyes and sees a storm,
The storm gazes back.
YOU ARE READING
The Scent of Books
Paranormalʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ'ᴛ ᴅᴇsᴄᴇɴᴅ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴍᴀᴅɴᴇss ɪғ ᴍᴀᴅ ɪs ᴀʟʟ ʏᴏᴜ'ᴠᴇ ᴇᴠᴇʀ ʙᴇᴇɴ. ♈︎ _________________________________________ The ridiculous, grim, unorthodox and senseless tale of Thana Laurent. Ⓒ 2017 | 2018
