Drifting through the barren forest of your mind’s valley, the darkness engulfing my heart, previously enraptured by the scent of your aged, unfading tome. Meaningless speeches uttered frequently from those most wanted lips that belong to the life that you hold within your soul, but I feel the assurance of your tousled blessings. From the top of the infinite sky, I feel the eradication of this cold revenge that your softened features display. Those eyes of yours, all colors at a time, gawk into the depth of void that I contain, which can effortlessly be illustrated as my existence. I pull you along, we move forward in our travel towards the furthest edge of these extending ruins. Two figures that we call ourselves fall down to the bottom of this fervent affair, my trembling fingertips tracing your flawless outline. The pain is still apparent if I do senseless things to that silken flesh my skin craves so jealously, whether or not it is admitted. Our journey is expanded to the length of your attire, which seems never ending compared to the plethora of barren things. I couldn’t fit with these pretty things that you carried with you, so why add me to the weight of your collections, I ask. I have become one of your possessions. If the sun sets in oranges and reds, what does the sun rise in? The sun rises in your eyes. Whether or not this solitude is admitted when the pain strikes down so hauntingly all depends on the words you mumble in that sweet tongue. We stagger in the ethereal pale moonlight that glimmers without hope. Let’s stay up until sun rise, when we can present our grand finale, in means we are to lapse.