One word and the doves that once kept our peace fall from the heavens,
their elegance in shards,
sweet-scented ruby taints the flowers,
Alice was right after all,
and the roses have never looked so beautiful in full bloom.
The grasp on my throat tightens and a soft whimper escapes the pit,
as if to greet the intruder.
The World without her harmonic melodies,
Oh, how she burns so beautiful!
the glow bronzes my skin
the salted cheeks brighten as to welcome such chaos.
There is release so tragically amiable from such loss.
Lust for such hurt.
An eternal promise to the souls of the box,
might we all go mad,
and leave Pandora with such pitiful remains?
