When some god or man called this dishonorable
He didn’t account for the way a he looks when
Raven hair meets the curtained sun
A radiance meant for eyes, that no lens could capture
How every new facet of him reads like newfound scripture.
How his sacrilege feels like bees in my chest;
busy and anxious but alive.
The buzzing around my heart a warning.
But how can something so easy be blasphemy?
A sin so sweet could only be blessing.
The buzzing now a promise of easy mornings, and comfortable nights.
I know stories weren’t written of us to have a happy ending
but I trust the silent vow carried with his every breath
More than veiled warnings, dusty tomes or holy texts
Yvaine is better than you 
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