——
I think of swaths of rich amber and flecks of gold.
Amidst an eclipse of disparaging thoughts, I envision gentle rays catching fire; igniting the back of my lids, the center of my soul, and I'm forced to accept the impossibility of drowning in the bitterness of it all when I'm engulfed in warm pools of honey; sweet and buttery light, I'm indeed confronted by the irises of love, and a quiet, deliberate part of me wishes she'd stop staring and avert her eyes. For once, "look away from the horrors of me", but she tends to fixate, to wander too far and forget that safety doesn't exist in these volatile waters.
Yes, M, I love you, I love you dearly, but you will not survive these cold depths, you will drown under a grey, oppressive sky.
—E
