MorbidDarkroseAmi

His name was Christopher, small,  pessimistic, and pale. A child sullen at birth and alone as well. As he stood by the moonlight with hands draped at his sides. He thought to himself what a beautiful sight. The moon to far to embrace, isolated  and alone. He adored how it lingered wherever he roamed. Christopher sat on the bed face planted at the door. As he heard his aunt call from the second floor. “Criiistopherrr.”  She called dauntingly weird. In a voice she knew would have him scared. Again she spoke voice much unsettling than before. Still just as loud it carried from the second floor

Her dark eyes wander left to right. In this place she calls home every night. This dark room cold, empty and dim. Her fragile heart aches with the wounds from him. Such dirty secrets and hidden fears. Unspoken words and held back tears. Her dark eyes now seems much more hollow. Just as her trust and words that follow.