╔══《"Nothing more then love》══╗ 
and war, but no one knows the difference."

        The white sheep and the black lamb, alone in a field.

        The roughness of pale hands against the smoothness of tan skin. The face of an infant too young to understand what was wrong. The face of an adult old enough to understand that this was wrong.

       The warm summer air, the sun slowly slipping below the line of trees. The cast of the orange sunset that blurred the lines between skin. For just a moment, they were one of the same. For just a moment, the crickets stopped chirping, the birds stopped singing, and all was calm.

        The brown of his eyes matched the brown of hers. The black of his hair matched the black of hers. She was a child again, as innocent as him. The wind blew, tousling her dress and ruffling her hair.

        The late August night was the last time. The last time he'd see this; see her. When the sun finally sunk below the horizon, the darkness at once consuming them, the white sheep changed.

        The wind died down, her hair swept back into perfect place, her dress not wrinkling once. The crickets resumed their chirping, the birds continued their singing. The pale hand released the tan skin. She left, and he was alone.

        The fireflies that came to light around him illuminated the gloss of his eyes. The wind blew once more, tousling his loose shirt and ruffling his hair. He took a deep breath in, staring up at the dark sky.

       A star or a satellite?

        As the long grass brushed against his ankles, he knew this was the last time. The last time he'd see this; see himself. When the moon rose above the line of trees, the sky at once brightening around him, the black lamb changed.

╚══《309》══╝

══https://open.spotify.com/track/3r9eGg4SVPbhtiPTA9UkmK══