you glowed and bejeweled the moonflowers,
poison filled with illusory hope and serenity.
and we both embraced,
and we both strangled each other.
we burn—
oh, we burn so brightly, dear one.
and yet, we turned too bright,
and thus, we cascade down.
no valley of flowers,
no iridescent moonlight.
no light, no hope—
we burned into ashes.
there goes my Morpheus,
and so shall I cease to be.
maybe in another life,
we could have been.
yes, we could have been.
once, the light of my life,
now becoming no more than a mere shadow that existed yesterday.
there you go, like a dandelion,
twirling away like a false prophet to one’s dreams and wishes.
if only you had known
how fickle words could have been,
as people grow—
and outgrow them.
and yet, we live on,
tragically, with beauty and grace.
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