Looking into the still,
black waters
that is your
imagined soul,
My withering prince,
everything held within,
a mere reflection of the
nothingness of time
And did it hurt,
My withering prince?
When I fell through
all the nothingness
that is you?

My empty memories,
of your stone hands
bleed the spaces
between seconds,
between dry tears
And I likened my soul,
to the yellowing pages
of an aged book,
crumbling,
tattering,
with every touch

My withering prince,
did it hurt,
when I fell through,
all the nothingness,
that is you?~A