How she wished, she could be like the clear running brooks to him instead she turned into a dark murky pond. She didn't know why? Each time he tried to read her thoughts, she turned more obtuse. The more he probed, the more it became dark. When he moved towards her, she coiled inside painfully concealing those wounds from him with fake smiles and tinkered laughter. She kept drowning herself in that darkness, looking for solace. Running away from him each time he tried to reach out to her. How ironical, the more he tried to be with her, the more she moved further away from him. And, when he was not around, she pined for him. His absence was killing.
The hunt longed to get hunted...
Ahh...when is the next full moon?
Waiting for the hunter and the chase to begin.
