I sway, you swoon. Dripping with your elegant darkness; it’s like a cloak wrapped around you. So naive little flower, how you are under the illusion that it can protect you. You are so very mistaken, for the stem will be cut and you will bleed your juices. You will descend into the inky cold, preserved and extended for a time. You will slowly…ever so slowly wither, fed an elixir to keep you half alive. In the end you will perish for the beauty you offer. It matters not anymore though, for you are mine and in this moment we dance together.

6 Responses

  1. That's an interesting introduction to the photo.  Sounds sad, but still something does remain in our memory, as if a loved one had died.

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