You won't ever be there on Sunday morning in warm bed with the taste of hot coffee and chocolate pancakes on your lips.
I knew that from the very first time.
You're my everything after midnight.
Wrong,dangerous and far away.
You have that look I always search for in the crowds. That look that calls me yours.
'Yours'..just a feeling of home.
Home in one person.In one eyes.
Silent understanding.
Strong hands with gentle touch.
Your deep voice and soft whisper.
A puppy inside the beast.
When we run out of words, we only have flame.
And that is more than enough to always be there.
No, you have never been my Sun. You've always been and always will be my Moon.
Cold light that guides me through my dark.
Original photography and text by 
