.:: dear little shy moon ::.He traced her sun-kissed, freckled skin with the tips of his fingers, mapping the dots as though they were lonely stars, and her soft skin was the milky way. In the darkness of night, her body was light. Even when she tried to hide under the sea of blankets, he would feel her glowing, pulling her gently back for air. She was his little shy-moon. He loved the way her body could create beautiful landscapes as she lay curled, and he gazed at the accentuated curves of her back..:: dear little shy moon ::.
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Softly spoken words and heavy inhaled breaths revealed her fragile ribcage, pressed sharply against her skin. She had been broken once before; her bones were branches waiting to break-through, and her limbs were the roots of a willow tree, endless and captivating. She held her chest while she slept; her heart imprisoned, tangled in the roots of her body, and the key lost somewhere in her dreams.
He whispered in her ear, “dear little shy-moon, one day your heart will be mine...” When he held her body clos
Our hearts must be soaked in wineOur hearts must be soaked in wine
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I often wonder if you heard my calls for you, years ago when I was broken, picking up the remenants of my heart off the ground, and looking to the stars for a sign that you were near. I know now deep down (to the depths of my soul) that I always yearned to be with someone like you, and some days I wish that we had met before our heart-aches. I might have not long been out of school and you would be wearing a suit for your job, but age has never interfered before, so I doubt it would have then. I might have been more naive and less wise than I am today, but if I met you then I'd change, because even the thought of you makes me want to be a better human being. I always like to imagine that those years between us were just to test my patience and wait for you.
And let me whisper a secret for you. All those years ago, I would look to the moon and stars and wondered if you were looking at the same time as me. I still remember shivering next to the moonlit window, as though your breath were