Literature
.:: dear little shy moon ::.
He traced her sun-kissed, freckled skin with the tips of his fingers, mapping the dots as though they were lonely stars, and her soft skin was the milky way. In the darkness of night, her body was light. Even when she tried to hide under the sea of blankets, he would feel her glowing, pulling her gently back for air. She was his little shy-moon. He loved the way her body could create beautiful landscapes as she lay curled, and he gazed at the accentuated curves of her back.
Softly spoken words and heavy inhaled breaths revealed her fragile ribcage, pressed sharply against her skin. She had been broken once before; her bones were branches wai