“Amourdove,”she called him impetuously,on the Saturday they sat together all morning. Her chocolate lover looked up with his dark brow set in lovely confufflement. He puckered his plum purple lips (plucked to full perfection) in curiousity.
“What’s that Sweety?” He stroked her cheekbone. Her feathery black eye lashes brushed against his fingertips.
“It’s a bit of latine”She leaned forward. He rest his chin on her shoulder and nodded her explaination on,”Amour means love.You are my love- My lovedove.You’re my Amourdove .”
She pressed her fingers to his curls and her to the birh mark at his temple. Her love smiled calmly, and a hollow appeared in his chocolate cheek.
Suddenly, he remembered something. He had to meet with his girl-Joy. He sat up quickly, “Rose,cutey, i’ve got to go get Joy.”
Rose smiled,”Oh yea!” Disguising the scalloped knife that ripped her stitched up heart. She always quickly ended their time together.
Her Amourdove hugged her around her waist, then turned to leave. She remembered when he had been love sick over a girl,Hope. Rose watched as he left, and prayed that Joy didnt remind him how to cry, the way Hope had taken away his dreams.