Thoughts For My Best Friend Cra

It was the little lines and grooves, the pores in soft, pigmented skin the memory of taste and touch that reared its pesky head, as if to say, I am still here. Like Eros, it had perched itself on top, its gaze to all horizons that could be seen from there, Mount Pectoralis always was base camp for future thoughts, and for the reminiscence of the heart. He asked himself, when twilight rose from misty valley to his mountain top if demons did exist in the thin air, and monsters, big and small would come to join and gladly share the tranquil sweetness of their melody. And he decided then, before the night's descent, that what they had would easily transcend the threat of evil and its sibling called despair. And when the forest came alive that lonely night he knew it would, due to its nature, never end.