careworn and smiling with a crooked grin, adoration slept in the wrinkles beside his eyes
as he observed the mosaic beauty. she held his callused palm in hers and whispered to the
moon; "tonight, we're monsters."
romanticism isn't always beautiful.
Howl at the moon, scream at the stars, say hi to the sun, sure ― promise me one thing, though, that you won't get lost. It's a big world out there, little boy, and you're not ready to face it just quite yet.
#486 chicklit 2/23