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She changes me,
twisting, molding, shaping.
It is incurable; thoughts of her
trapped in my veins like venom.
If her black tresses are the sky,
her eyes are the stars,
her face is the moon.
And I am the wolf.
:iconsalacious-immemorial:

Author's Comments

written a few years ago. about subtle feelings that i stretched to a bit of an extreme

Comments


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:iconmonkey256:
wolf..carnivor creature, who sings his lonelyness to the only beauty he remains faithfull to:the moon.
loved it..

--
clocks kill dreams

Details

February 12, 2008
338 bytes

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