agrajagthetesty

If I were to close my eyes and thus, Invisibly, skin-shielded, tell you how Lash on lid, and cling of kohl to lash Defines my every yearning, drowns my now (My then made useless in its certainty) How resting wisps of light upon your cheek Make newborn skies of my cautious clamshell-heart, How my truth is false, words silent, strength is weak And all for your sake; how my thumbtips memorise The curve that I call lovely in your face That is my own unravelling, if ever I Could dare to touch, to offer my embrace – And if I did, what then? For my own fear And my own shackle, weakness, keep me here.

Romano licks his lower lip nervously, attempting to surreptitiously wipe his palm on the side of his trousers as England looks sharply at him from over his sheaf of papers. Perhaps it had been a bad idea simply to grab England's arm now that they are alone after the meeting. Perhaps Romano ought to have asked him out to dinner first: wine, candles, maybe some romantic music. That would have set the atmosphere so much better, and provided a backdrop to what Romano is about to say – and maybe, just maybe, it would have given him some time to calm his nerves. Probably it would have made it worse, though, he acknowledges. But England has lo

“Did it work?” Alphonse opened his eyes to darkness. For a moment he was confused, but then he remembered that the lights had smashed. Darkness. Of course, darkness was right. “Brother, where are you? Did it work?” Silence. All around him was the dense sound of nothingness. Nothing, except the dark so complete that it almost seemed to be smothering him, wriggling over and under his skin. Shadows crept upon shadows, and yet the blackness was so powerful that no movement could be seen. The darkness was eternal, and stretched out all around him. A true lack of light will take all the senses with it. Alphonse had eyes, yet