It was the color Prometheus bled after he stole fire for mankind It was the color Helios glowed on seeing Phathon's demise It was the color Icarus had seen when he closed his eyes for the final time It was the color Adonis held in his arms before he died It was the color of Ares's cries as Troy lost it's legionnaires It was the color of Medusa's hair before she turned vile And It was his color He was gold. His eyes. His smile. His touch.
He laughed at me through the pixelated screen The same alluring laughter that coloured me yellow every time I heard it Hearing his voice had always been a remedy for sleepless nights It remains the same even today He still comes to rescue My golden dragon He held my face in his hands His golden eyes shone at me He kissed my cheeks He was drunk And he had the superpower to become adorable when losing control He held me tight and reminded me how much he loved me I smiled Then I cried And finally I was grateful for having recorded these moments
"Dragon slayer" they called her. The first of her kind. She had slain the mighty golden dragon alive. His body was a treasure she kept for all to see.
She used to smile often, but it never reached her eyes. They say she was not always like this. They say she once loved a boy, his eyes like an orb of gold. They say he never left her side. There are stories about how he protected her, about how he was her hearth, her home. She used to love him they say. She used to speak how he was so true, never lied. Many had warned her, told her that couldn't be true. No one was flawless after all. But she had hushed them, told them to be quite. He was on a pedestal, he was her knight. Mad in love, they say she was.
Rumors have it, he vanished one night. The same night the dragon had appeared before her. The same night she became the dragon slayer.
Where had the dragon come from? Who was he? No one asks. And she wanders the streets now, as if without her heart.