There is mystery in lines unwritten.
What has fate in store beyond your lips upon mine?
What other purpose could there be to life beyond the fire you ignited in my blood?
I need. I want. I must. I-
I have to know you.
But, there is mystery in lines unwritten.
I am drawn like a moth to the flame.
I dance to your flute even though the instrument has yet to touch your lips.
No matter, I still hear sweet music reverberating throughout my soul.
Blue ink on a piece of paper.
Words on blank lines.
That is all this is.
Blue words in ink.
Trying to paint a picture of a crimson heart.