[untitled]

A boy perched in the crescent of the moon spied the girl in a shadow of herself, and he played her a little something on his fiddle about the beauty and the loss of one’s self. He said that though they were both only the dream of a dream drenched in paint dried under some skinny girl’s fingernails, they were just as important as anybody else. He said his hopes were all as fragile as the wet paint on a canvas, and if he even smudged the way he saw her he might never be able to see her again, but then he gave her a little kiss on the nose and told her to never be less than a dream of a dream should be.

Reviews

[EliJoLee]

omigod.
ive read most of your work
and all i can say is thats they are phenomenal!
u truely have a talent.
glad u posted them.
just swell!
this one in particular is my favorite.
love the visuals i got in this one. same goes for all the others. :)