I'm just the boy inside the man

A part of her wasn’t convinced that he was real, that the star-bathed form of him was ethereal. Or an illusion, a reminder of what she desperately sought. When he turned, she was forced to suck in a breath, shocked at how the beauty of him had been changed. The scars across his face where utterly unexpected, and brought forth a feeling or rage inside of her. She sucked in another breath, trying to steady the tide of emotions that threaten to overwhelm her. From shock, to anger, to relief and fear. Fear at the age she could see in his last good eye, how that age held him, ravaged him. She still remembered his as a youthful man, full of passion.

The softness in his expression did a lot to dull the shock, to wash over the emotion with pain and affection. “It’s really you” she whispered, feeling an odd need to touch, to confirm what the senses of her eyes where telling her. She moved closer, drawing in the scent of him, the electric taste that was his natural aroma. She moved until she was close enough to touch her nose to his cheek, shocked most of all at how she had to bend down to do so. He had once towered over her, and her little form had always looked up to him in wonder.


"Burn Baby Burn"