What if this story
Of ours goes down in history
As a change of times
For once
The love of self
Triumphs fairytales.

I wish
You wrote me letters
Under the moonlight
And signed with a couplet
And petals of rose
Dried and pressed
Between the pages of your favourite book
And an endearment
To call me by
A secret
Ours alone.

Smile as though
The splendour
Of the moon
Is your competition.

To write
Or to not.
A melody unsung
Still resides,
Where it should,
In a pocket
Of my soul.

I'm the future
Of my past
And the past
To my future
And neatly wrapped
In the present.

You're the air around me,
And here I am,
Gasping.

A ****** of crows,
A conspiracy of ravens.
Ended up painting maliciousness
On creatures mute.