ShadoCrytr

If you are the world, I am Atlas. My shoulders tire of this ruin.

If you are the world, I am Atlas. My shoulders tire of this ruin.

Thoughts soften as the idea of Her arms around me drifts within my mind. A stinging balm to the heart would be Her words if only I could hear them. Her hands would be the teachers, forcing me to accept gentleness, When all I’ve ever known is violence and pain. Eyes that would impart wisdom I otherwise would have turned a blind eye too, Would keep me for no less than forever, which in itself is not long enough. Were I to feel Her lips made of the sweetest honey…spun with the finest silk, Surely I would never love another, quite like I would love Her. Should Her touch ever find where my secrets lay etched between the fawn hil