Magic is what happens when the sun rises

Magic is what happens when the birds chirp

Magic is what happens when I roll over to see her beautiful face

Her hair spread against the pillow,

Her face shadowed with the breaks in the curtains

Her body covered with the fluffy clouds of the comforter.

She reminds me of a roaring sea,

Her gentle strength as she arises from the sheets

Her gentle strength as...

The cold wind blew in my face as I ran. I ran and I ran and I ran. Time was irrelevant in the middle of this cold forest. What month was it? Where was this forest? Long gone are the August days from which I was snatched. The cold means that it must’ve been months that I was with the beast. The monster who growled and I never fully saw. Was it even human? I doubt it. As soon as these thoughts pass ...