Smoke

Smokey blue-grey butterflies

smoulder in his eyes,

while magic flutters and flits

on his fingertips.

 

The art that becomes him so

is wonderous to know,

like the music that he plays

while i dance and sway.

 

The angel never lies to me

because he cannot speak,

and he is never far away

nor will he ever stray.

 

My constant companion is he

and evermore will be.

i wish upon a star one thing:

That he is more than imagining.

Reviews

[Jae]

I LOVE THIS SOO MUCH!!! GO SMOKE!!!! DUDE IM SO GLAD YOU FINALLY STARTED WRITING ON HERE AGAIN!!!! GREAT JOB ON THIS TWIN!!!

~Rem