Maze Puddle.

Secluded area to the aching rhythms of each heartbeat. Blood getting warmer to each peck traveling to its next destination. Not a word slips past their lips. The eyes say it all. The impossible barrier of what the mind can express that the tongue cannot. Body language being more than physical. An emotional character. Fluent in all languages, this one speaking the truth. Looking at her, studying each expression. She craves no one’s attention. Demanding such captivation required to the passage way of his logic. “Why are you here?” can’t you see she’s obsolete to such chivalry in-depth? He’s unphased. Judging by the harsh features that cover what shea butter and coco can do for one’s flesh. His appetite appeases what little his thoughts cannot process. Growing founder of what is underlining the surface of those gloss eyed statues of her demeanor. Perhaps it’s the radiance of independence that never lacked. He couldn’t be even more pleased to know she is a challenge, a maze, lost in the cracks waiting to be found in between the grass lies a puzzle explaining the rare dying breed who has yet to be pieced back together for the sake of herself, and own keeping. Because even a rose must grow beyond the concrete.