There was something about her. Dark mysterious eyes, her fluid white skin, or the way she played with her hair. His demons that used to be balanced with angels were now rebelling, threatening to break lose. They wanted her. He wanted her. Playing with the leather cuff he walked towards her. Allured. Giving in. Tipping the scale.
She was the kind of girl who smiled a lot.
when hurricanes moved through her thoughts and darkness crept on her mind..
Even the chaos around her paused to admire how well she fought
She was the kind of girl who had magic in her eyes.
When she stopped and looked at u, it was to decide whether to dance with your angels or to silence ur demons, even the ones in disguise.
She was the kind of girl who had fire in her soul.
She could read you layer after layer down to ur core, touch u in places that would leave u begging for more.
But would rather kiss ur lips while holding ur face and lie in your lap all day to talk about constellations and space
No one knew who he was, or why his statue was there. He had been standing there and watching over the city silently for hundreds of years. His face had become one with the stone he was carved into. He was a saint for some, a fallen angel for others. No one knew when he had lived or how he had died. Man or god he was slowly losing the battle against nature. The death of his statue inevitable..until one day a photographer from half way across the world captured him through his lens. He is now immortal.
Photo Credit: Ashutosh Khandkar http://www.flickr.com/photos/99126239@N04/