Wisps of midnarust curl callously around our throats,
And we refuse to sever its sanguine ropes;
Now we float!
I am the black ink tainting your fountain of dreams.
You are the white pigment painting over my spectrum of screams.
Drawn close, yet estranged,
We hide the hues of prismatic pain
In wavelengths of glimmering gray,
Like moonbows over amaryllic plains.
This sapphirine nightglow; weeping carmine as it flows;
We refused to let it cut through our half-light hopes;
Now we bloat!
Nov 30, 2025
Nov 30, 2025 at 2:53 AM UTC
Wisps of midnarust curl callously around our throats,
And we refuse to sever its sanguine ropes;
Now we float!
I am the black ink tainting your fountain of dreams.
You are the white pigment painting over my spectrum of screams.
Drawn close, yet estranged,
We hide the hues of prismatic pain
In wavelengths of glimmering gray,
Like moonbows over amaryllic plains.
This sapphirine nightglow; weeping carmine as it flows;
We refused to let it cut through our half-light hopes;
Now we bloat!
Holding on to hipe that a toxic relationship can get better for too long is never a good idea.
"Midnarust" is my own word. I'll leave you to figure out what it means.
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