Words hung above but never would form
Like a cry at the final breath that is drawn
Like a cry at the final breath that is drawn
It's manipulation, to be sure, but that doesn't mean it's not impactful: especially as the images Safrin floods into Koa's mind are the very ones he keeps locked away in his heart, the things he dreams of and aspires to, even if his own self-doubt keep him from holding them to the light. But with Safrin there is no escaping starlight, no shadows in which to hide ambition away. And Koa finds himself thinking, Yes, I will become a hero. Why shouldn't it be me?
Perhaps because your writer is too swamped to get your post count up. Womp womp.
The Koa who draws back from Safrin's embrace is subtly changed: his head held higher, his eyes more focused, a quiet determination etched in his brow. Boldly he reached for her hand, drawing it to brush against smooth lips. "My Lady's will be done," the Dragoon declares, a deep bow not quite quick enough to hide his roguish grin.
And when he dreams that night it will be of stars, and raven hair, and jasmine lips.
[fin <3]
The Koa who draws back from Safrin's embrace is subtly changed: his head held higher, his eyes more focused, a quiet determination etched in his brow. Boldly he reached for her hand, drawing it to brush against smooth lips. "My Lady's will be done," the Dragoon declares, a deep bow not quite quick enough to hide his roguish grin.
And when he dreams that night it will be of stars, and raven hair, and jasmine lips.
[fin <3]
Koa Carpenter
Mama said, burn your biographies
Rewrite your history, light up your wildest dreams
Rewrite your history, light up your wildest dreams
