And it was lovely
Veiled with white vision, she could not see and he was her guide. Against a streak of white light, her rope of sight. They were happy, laughing and they were high flying.
His lips stained with mary jane as they kissed over a canvas of abstracted paint, over and over again. Soft and wet, time stood still. They could not stop and they did not want to.
Eyes peeked past, stealing glances as they sat under the Sun, her hair glazed across his lap and she rested. Leaves plastered against the sky, overlapping an image of running clouds. Her eyes projected further, the Sun winked, and it was lovely.