Fuchsia butterflies dancing south of opulent skies signify yet another year has come and passed;
There is nothing left for no one but a crystal kiss upon these rolling hills;
The colors on the horizon drained of flesh, the bourbon in this stained mug licked away, and the messy red curls atop my head lay in piles on the floor.
Ringing static undisturbed, an ocular void resides in the mirror
I may have misspelled my title the first time around... Hahaha