Her love shrivels into flowers of dead skins
Sticky skins of black, thorny blossoms
Blossoms that have witnessed Times end,
Times end that grasps the different petals
Petals that haven’t the chance to witness their fates,
their fates that aren’t worth deaths blooms.
Death blooms from the chrysalis of teal light.
Light teal, the chrysalis of a butterfly.
Butterfly cries so effortlessly in the night,
Nectar of the night, honey, blood, tears
Tears that melted their inky black souls.
Soul eats away,
Soul eats away at their minds and their innocence.
Their innocence is heavenly,
Heaven is gone,
gone so far that not even Death knew why.
Death couldn’t comprehend what was wrong with them.
What is wrong with them?
Are they forever to be lost in the River of Souls where Reaper lounges all
day for just one of them to pay a visit?
