Flash Story
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I Cracks in the Walls There is always love that dreams. Even then, those times when the eyes are closed, when the mind has entered a shutdown phase, the soul is screaming. The soul screams, as that is all the mind hears. The same as an infant owl having a powerful sense of hearing will
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Echo. Echo out, and then, remain sad. We say to you, a little fog cannot blind those eyes. Hold your piercing scream to the wind, and then let us breathe of you. Allow ourselves. And then, we will dance to your tune. We will dream of what will sometimes never reach. Then, we will keep
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He believed more in betrayal, than that of love. Watched, as the stars kissed his cheeks. Waited, as the haze melted him into a portrayal of surrender. Laughed, as the clouds mocked him among their height. He kept something. A locket. Of a face with two roses for cheeks, blush for the sake of the
Modern Romanticism 