His storm of a heart, Was put to rest by her rainbow of touch,
She became his identity, his personality, He was made entirely of her,
When he spoke her thoughts were spoken, When he smiled her passion was seen, When he walked, she was like his shadow, When he cried she crawled out from his eyes as tears,
She became his everything, She was the dream he dreamed every night, Not to touch,only to keep, Her memories were his favorite muse!
she was his escape, she was his fantasy, she was his reality.
She was only present in his dreams, keeping an eye on him, guiding him through the rough routes of the journey,
she was his prayer, she was his guardian angel, that looked from the above over her misguided, often misunderstood wanderer.
She was the path, he was a wanderer! He was her angel often misunderstood by the cruel world as a demon with wings.
His wings were darkened by the fights he fought for her against the world,
Strange! the one who is lost forever guides the living one and the one who lives, is a mere empty vessel seeking refuge in the wings of the lost soldier!
Seeking refuge in the lost world!