The Insomnia Writes

She has long black hair, and eyes that glow green. She is thin but muscles contort her body, whispering a promise of fresh blood. The skin is tanned, freckled, but holds scars of stories she dares not tell. Her face, like a lion, makes cowards of men, and curses from women. Smell of burning sage tinged with lavender, comes to you as this warrior graces you with her coming. A necklaces of twine weighed down by a pendant. Around quarter size and pressed with a symbol of unknown. She breathes in her soul and not the body. She sees the bring life and the ignorance of death. She feels her blood pumping, and how it syncs with that of another. What to make of this person is yet to come to her, but pain is in his eyes. He whispers to her slowly; "It is always darkest before dawn." and with this he lays her down and she can feel this souls lips press on her sternum. When sun rises, and awakening comes, something has changed. The warrior women feels it in her veins. Looking into the eyes of the man, the pain is gone and wisdom holds true. His green eyes meet hers and both are left breathless. "You have changed me." Her voice like a sweet French love song reaches him. He closes his eyes and smells protection in the air - almost a sweet taste in his mouth. "I am yours." The man says. She sees the pull of their bodies for each other and she knows she will have to push logic out of her soul, her mind. Love is not perfect, she thinks... The yells will come sooner or later but they are not for hate, they are for each other. They sing out into the distance, yelling for what they know is right. This vision plants a smile on her face.
The sun sets high in the sky, calling the lovers out to play in town. People look and people talk. The warrior with a mate? No man could take her, for no man could make her listen but that of the one by her hip. This warrior knew this man could feel her, and teach her his learnings, and speak wisdom no drunk could hold. But when her man went out to play, play with the drunks, she would wait till the sight of his sober body, clear mind, came to her to comfort her and tell her to trust him. She never knew how to trust another before this mighty soul of his. It took her time to figure the answer to his question; "Why do you worry? You know I will come back okay, and you know you can trust me." Long nights pasted them both as she searched for this one simple answer. "It is not my love that I do not trust. It is the ignorance he surrounds himself by, that I can not and will not trust." He knows his own suffering is behind him but together they suffer, together they bleed, together they feel. When the warrior needs to weep he takes her in. His soul weeps with her but he does not show it. When his women is weak he must be strong. He must love her till she is soothed and lull'd to sleep. He must whisper "It is darkest before dawn."

P.S sorry for the bad form, I'm posting from my iPhone at the moment