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.

I can not think back on when the wolves made themselves known. Of course we learned of it in history but my brain was too packed of other useless facts and numbers that listening to the droning of creatures befell me. All I know now is they are known. I also know they kidnap girls from school and call it love.