I lay awake as she sleeps, her voice is like an angel, but her snore is like a wild boar that ravages through her sleep. In the mist of sheep fur that clings to her torso. With eyes like the leopard skin that swirls in the air but moves like a raging sea. At the speed of an angry bull. That sees red at every silhouette of every man in the distance. She swings her horns of force, spreading the flour like dust across the floor with her hooves for need. The need every woman wishes for in her lifetime, that can be a guilty pleasure or an open pleasure with no shame but pride. This can make a woman feel special however not when the silhouettes gradually disappear.

Fallen for silhouettes that don’t see. Don’t hear. The screeching pain from her heart. The pain of love. Love that is given but not received. From someone near but far away. Someone you thought is yours but isn’t. Without the light of day. The wild bull turns away. In the darkness. In the night. Looking for someone to love. Without sight. The bull runs as I see her twist and turn. Making the bed a mess while she sleeps but I don’t care. As I am not the one for her. Now she is franticly finding the thing that can brings her home, using the golden strings as her heart is made out of a crown of stars that shines brighter than the suns themselves.

She continues to walk blindly until she feels something. A hand in the floor. A hand that violently grabs her by the ankle and pulls her through the floor into thin air above the land and the seas. This hand doesn’t let her go. Fear but exhilaration goes to her head as she keeps her eyes closed. Trembling while wondering: Where she will go? Will she die? Is this the end to her pains and disappointment? Not realising that her hand is held. As they fall at a fast pace. She hears a voice. A strong, dominating voice that becomes closer and closer to her ear.

A voice of erotic wonders and warmth that she can’t explain and hasn’t heard before. Overcome with ecstasy, she does as she is told, opens her eyes and holds on to his body. His body is rough but smooth like carved wood at its finest. His face is like the breathtaking sunset on a summer evening, with piercing hazel eyes that pulls her in even more. Opening up to her, seeing that he isn’t those silhouettes that would use her and leave her as their faces come closer. Feeling each-other breaths as their lips touch slightly. Teasing each-other as they impatiently want more until she roughly kisses him. Breaking the tension between them and slowing the speed of their falling from the sky. Not letting him go as he is the one. He carries her home, spending the rest of their lives together, until old age. She is no longer next to me. Yes, she isn’t next to me, because she has gone and doesn’t want a blank silhouette like me anymore