Sunkissed skin and tan lines,
Tussled hair and rose petals,
A love story that's never going to be told.
Shaking fingers sliding over satin
Finding little grasps of hope with
Moon light shining through the window,
A glow so sweet and soft settling into the night.
His bleeding love and her torn soul igniting fire with dry eyes and wet slithers of empty happiness.
These old bones rattle together, an urgent meeting of compassion too powerful for a boy and a girl combined with love and moonlight.
If only the sun set hadn't come early, and danger didn't sound so **** and the feel of lathering skin wasn't so appealing, two lonely hearts would still be two hearts, and not a mixture of blood and shattered glass.