These revelries play out like the repetition of a zoetrope, stirring a sleeping beauty. A beauty untouched by a darkness that consumes my ego. The stars fall down around me, showering me in constellations that set fire to my skin. Burnt, bruised, and hollowed out, I surrendered the only love I’ve endured for a breath of salvation.
Seven months. Seven months of separation, marked by my charred state. One last call into the oblivion, then the line was severed.
And that, was the dusk of our beloved age of innocence.