Two.

Two. 

We're two. 

In a world of fear. 

She loves being cared. 

And I, I love my tomb of silence. 

I stay and muse on the ghosts around. 

She's an undefined part - one I'll never get.

I'm just her harlot. Her slave. Her faithful minion.

She doesn't know where she'll get. What she'll become.

But me. I know. I know it all. I'm there at the back. Forgotten. 

When the clocks strike, and the moon disappears. She'll turn to me. 

And I, I'll silently whisper words of resurrection. For, we're one. Always. 

Lies.

Soft mellow eyes. Hurtful truths.
Why would you want them to be,
An epoch in your memory?
Wrathfully sewn and carefully silenced.
Illusioned to love.
Illusioned to lust.
An underlying ghost of past shadows.
Nothing concrete.
Nothing strong.
Just a string of indelible words.
Shattered minds of a thousand lives,
Cracked reflections of broken mirrors.
Yet they defy who you are,
A mystery to the mind's soul.
As simple as black or white,
Dark moonlit river of lies.