|12:59 pm - Library of One|
My sweet, unloved one,
When your flower bloomed it was not as before,
Not cold, black fire
But steely allure, glinting,
And you are made of stone
But you are standing before me in lemony sunlight,
And how can I say no to you, beautiful girl?
Our ashes are lost to the sea, as one.
Napoleon did it better.