Thinking of you is a poison I drink often
***
~ATLAS~
I watched the glow of the moon as she hung low in the night's sky.
When I was small, my father use to tell me stories about how my mother was with her. It did not take me long to realize that these stories were lies.
At first I thought she was dead. Gone and never to come back. But for all that had occurred, she might as well have been. Clouds shifted above, moving slowly in the way of the glow, creating a shadow. I continued to watch, not caring about the late hour. I would not tell father that I was watching the moon. Though part of me knew there was a large chance that he had his eyes upon her too.
Instead I would keep this information to myself. Locked away with all the other secrets I had stored inside.
The pain in father's
