Bittersweet memories taste so much better now that it has been aged properly
hollowed eyes can still shed tears
promised to me before creation,
I let you run free.
Loved by many—
I denied you in the darkest of days.
A man’s promise of love cannot compare to mine.
Kings have fallen
A knights’ valor can be broken
can feel the pain of taking you away—
as I do.
I am still hated.
Agonizing as it is,
I still await your hand.
No one is ever ready
to leave what has been.
let me fulfill my promise
of helping you
Silent as December snow,
her shadowy landscape
rests at my side.
Chaotic fingers ease themselves,
not to keep her from her dreams.
Watching her nap in sunlight
makes for a warm December.
This, ladies and gentlemen, is Ms. Momo. She crowned herself as my writing cat. Normally, she prefers sleeping in the closet but when I write by the window, she likes to keep me company. When I’m stuck on an idea, we brainstorm together while looking out for snow…our favorite past time.
She is also one of three Beings I answer to… (she just woke up and saw I was writing about her)
Armed with a grey scale of thought,
my eyes bleed magenta.
I’ve felt the warmth in blue,
burned by the intensity of white,
misled by red,
yet I remain
translucent to anticipation
in display for the eyes of the world