Rain & Marjorie

When Rain met Marjorie their friends said it won't last. No one believes it.

She has eyes like starlight, mouth supple honey melt. When she kisses her, she falls inside, losing herself for hours amid caressing supple skin, bliss half grey days, torrid salt drenched nights. Flesh intertwines, heartbeats tribal rhythmic pulsing, souls destined for singularity. Love subsumes, sublime lapping as ocean against shoreline. Beneath and above, sighing laughter moans of pleasure, ever sinking, skin wet against the deluge.

No one believes it. No one ever saw Rain or Marjorie again.

A slender woman with burgundy hair eclipsed the sun.