The last light finally went out, but even in the darkness I could see your chest rising and falling with each breath. You were fast asleep, lost somewhere exchanging kind words with Pierre Dénys de Montfort about your thoughts on the existence of the Kraken or escorting Queen Mab to her glittering spiderweb throne. Your arms were locked tightly around my waist, your face was against my neck. My back ached terribly from lying on the flat surface of the floor, but I did not dare move.
You look so beautiful when you sleep.
about me
- Svet
- "We should try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books that are written in a very foreign tongue." - Rainier Maria Rilke