Perched on bloodied haunches,

she stands beneath the

swirling blackness of

the night sky,

singing to the

bayonet moon

and gun-powdered stars

a song of heartbreak.



--Love is war

She is his Cosette

and I

his

Eponine.



A little fall of rain can

hardly hurt me now

but you can–-

you have—

my love.



–The Miserable