Your blood is dark, black, as it pulses out between my fingers and maybe that’s why they call you a night child. And all I can see is the way the sun had lit up your skin and the bravery in your, “That’s why I L…” But you didn’t say it, maybe I’m glad that you didn’t, I’ve never seen shadows pour out of someone’s mouth like that.
“That’s why you’re you.” You said instead and maybe that means more.
And I’ve never been a believer in anything but you’re changing me now, and even if you believe that there’s a spirit inside of you that makes you who you are, I know differently. You were you before you were what you became, you were always strong and merciful and I never wanted a commander, I wanted you. Your blood is darker than your eyes and I can’t push it all back in, no matter how hard I try because life is about more than just surviving.
We were from different lands but we’re the same, even if no one else can see that, and I may have fallen from the sky but the earth has bred more angels than the stars ever did.
— ~Excerpts from a book I’ll never write #95