Stories of a Polished Pistil | 2

Bon

Her presence? Magic.

The depths of her thoughts will have you never wanting to surface for air.

When she spoke of the dreams in her heart,

fireflies danced in her eyes…

dreams larger than ones he could ever imagine.

 

 

She was his sweet little escape.

 

High yet completely sober…

left with traces of her olive branch skin and memories of jasmine in between the coils of hair.

Each soul touched was left with a firefly of their own…

buried deep within their hearts…

untouched, unmatched…

undying

-MaquitaDonyel

MaquitaDonyel
Author

Alexandria + Native | Arlington + Resident | Late Twenties | I Love = God + Mini + Simple Thrills + Art + Love + Humility

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