Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Hannah Adair Sep 2014
I would take the last
metro every night, if that
meant I would see you.*

Je voudrais prendre
Le dernier métro, si
Je pourrais te voir.

Je ne sais pas ce
Qu’est l’amour. Je tiens à
le trouver avec tu.

Je suis cassée. Et
je ne suis pas aussi fort,
qu’elle semble ou crois.

Toutes mes journées-
elles terminent et commencent
seulement avec tu.  

Je prendrais le pré-
mier métro, si je pouvais
rester avec tu.
SøułSurvivør Aug 2017
Nehalemé suddenly knew her parents were standing on their balcony above her. Guilt brought more pink to her already flushed cheeks. She looked up to see them gazing down at her.

"Practicing your music lessons. That is good, Na-mé," her mother, Tatéalma, said. Her extraordinary face was calm, but Na-mé could swear her eyes were troubled. She looked closely at the bottomless amethyst pools... but saw nothing more.

Her father said nothing, and looked almost stern. Nehalemé felt the warmth rise to her face again. She knew she was not supposed to dive through the shield as she did. It was "Tempting The One". She could ride her Moorshoré, but THAT sort of behavior was forbidden. And by doing something forbidden by her parents, she was NOT Honoring Them.

Eliohé was a kind parent. But right now he wanted to spank Nehalemé. Hard. If it weren't for the strictures of The One in their morning prayers both of her parents would have taken turns! But Na-mé was NOT to know that they knew her "secret".

Her father moved away from the edge of the balcony, drawing his wife to his side. He possessed the classic masculine beauty of the Elioni Seraphs, though his hair was a bit darker than most, and had a tinge of bronze. His features were like those of Michelangelo's "David", but the planes of his face were not as rounded. They were almost angular.

Her mother was a Elioni Seraph of stunning beauty. Her platinum hair followed her 8 feet over the floor if she didn't pick it up & fold it into her Trisíme sleeve in Elioni fashion. Seraph females never cut their hair. It was their Glory. Her tourmaline-colored eyes were indeed deep pools. Set in a serene face only Bottachelli could have rendered. Her lashes were so long they grazed her cheekbones.

Nehalemé was a melding of the two stately beings. In a word... perfect.

They had been allowed to bear their daughter because one of their elders had decided to move off-world. This was the one, and ONLY time a Seraph could produce off-spring. Because, save with a projectile or blade made from Mier-Samé through the heart, or suffocation, the Seraph of whatever race could not die...

But Emolá-Bíenséma had moved to the First Moon to study, so Nehalemé could be born. There were only 3 children on Seph. Na-mé was one.

And the ONLY one to ever break The One's Code. She was headstrong. In a word... naughty. But He had a Purpose even in this. If her parents didn't make her a Seraphim, first. Up there with a halo and *WINGS!

— The End —