Just experimentin with writing.

I am almost convinced his eyes are made of solid gold.
And the sun doesn’t just shine on his skin it caresses his skin,
Revealing a glow, like diamonds, beaming from his body.
Then in the shadows his pale skin, white as chalk, he stands as beautiful as ever.

To cold to touch but to perfect to let go. We thread on a thin line day in day out.
Every day he stays the same, and every day I get closer to death.
He tries to scare me out of his life, he asks me,


“what if I’m not the hero? What if I’m the monster?”


There is no monster in this man… In this thing.
His heart is as golden as his eyes.



“I can’t stay away from you anymore. Your like my own personal brand of heroine” he said.


He is my hero. He is mine. And I made the decision. I am now frozen.
I can’t wait for us to not grow old together.
Were threading on thin lines day in and day out. Between reality and fantasy.

The world will grow old, and be born again.
while we dance to the song of evolution. For eternity.