❛ 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐁𝐄 𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄? ❜
𓈃 Like a torn canvas spread across
a makeshift dreamscape, you trudge
on a delicate balance. Will you let
love consume you, or the past?
━━ BNH...
❍ 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐘 — 悲惨 ❝ My heart, dear beloved, only seeks your desire. ❞
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❛ CAUSE' YOU ARE MY PASSION, LOVE, YOU ARE MY MADNESS. ❜
PRELUDE ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
WAS IT ART FRAUD to steal a glance from what was insanity untold, cracked eyes and swollen bones, a kaleidoscope of mania, a globe of tessellations, like fire molten of frozen roses, as if the world was not yours to understand?
Misery nips at the winter drear, idyllic gales like the rebirth of tragedies, and the sun blasts fiery tufts at a blued dawn. There is silence, for seconds or for centuries, and an ache for answers. Trivial vengeance and heartless mania become an excuse, and under the pretext of love, one is reminded — life is a blessing.
Seasons pass in hushed revelry, summers of joy and winters of woe, and you close your star-fleshed eyes, no longer a child of destiny (you're left a fugitive, you're left burdened, you're left alone) but a puppet with no strings. Unyielding, almost subservient, as the fall rains down, and you smile — 'Fall is death,' you muse, 'if death lost its magic.'
Yet a deeper resonance stirs within you, a cognizant conundrum mending, placidly, the writhe of your palms, and as if to dispute the existence of the universe which dared question the pith of your heart, it spoke, solemn at first, "Holy sculptures and stardust are an ode, as I draw from this abidance, to your beauty," and then with mirth, "to our eternity."
