He smelt like roses or at least how roses smelt to me. The Sun would rise as he composed it; bright and without fear, and just as I was ready to sleep in he came
and swept me off my feet.
Cityscapes traced across his face telling me where I had been, showing where I was going. Dark passages of suffering, walls laced with crimson leading to a bright exit. A Moon is jealous of his eyes, their welcoming gateways to bliss. He let me in to show their world of wonder and never-ending chapters, and just as I was ready to leave them, in he came and closed them.
Left trapped inside where I belong.