Bound by crystal offerings
Icicles fair and cold
The gods of imperial lacking
Thrift and gone and lovely
The taste of passion
My painful pleasure
Silvery stony fingers, their claws caress my skin
All the light evaporated
To impregnate the clouds with darkness
My sun, risen too late, is dead
Could have been prevented
But I like the cold too much.














Comments
But I like the cold too much
*dee*
--
-join the DA writer's cult!-
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