The Moon's Dark Embrace
The grass is delicate and rich underneath us, and it by one means or another doesn’t adhere to my skin in spite of having been lying in it for god knows how long.
Atlas’ eyes are as of now open, one arm behind his head as he gazes up through the trees at the stars sparkling over us. He gives me his trademark warped grin when our eyes meet, provoking a chuckle from me. “I figure rolling around in the earth does great things for morale,” I joke, inclining over him to press my lips briefly to his.
Atlas catches my hand in his possess and kisses my palm. “You’re beautiful,” he says, and at that point, after a delay, “even when you’re secured in grass.”