Deep behind the stained claws that are its ribcage

you came.

Your mace smashed through my glass walls

the walls you helped me forge.

'Its eyes! They still glow with that sickly sepia hue that its mind must have mistook for bronze! Your eyes aren't yellowed too, are they?'

you say before

planting your thumbs like seeds under the bags of my eyes to inspect my irises.

'Back

off!' I yell.

'You can't make us another mayfly! Blurry has our collective perception always been until now! Now Clarity has come!'

your nonsense spews

out of you

still.

Honey leaks from the sides of my eyes, though they remain open, fixated on you.

'Faith—

'Fool!' you've silenced me now.

But you're just as weak as I.

It slips,

meets the bottom

of the well like a misplaced

coin.

Now, its body merely shrivelled parchment paper

sits on a chair

facing a block of jelly

that has been stabbed

with two glossy candles,

burnt under the light of the moon.

There goes the shooting star that its eyes were meant to see.

- 30th July 2022

︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎

ద ద 𖦊 ꪉ 𐀔 𐃸 ద 𖦊 ʊ

༒ ༒ ༒ ༒ . . ༒ . . ༒

༒ ༒ ᜊ ༒ ༒ ༒

༒ ༒ ༒

༒ ༒ ༒ . . ༒

༒ ༒ ༒ . . ༒

ద ༒

༒ . ༒

༒ . . ᰔ

༒

༒