11h
Disassociating in the ebony mirage,
I called your name, knee deep in that tender visage,
You didn't answer, so I sung to the fireflies at my windowsill,
I kept crooning, but I knew they never really cared for my fill,
Serenading until my throat was limp and hoarse,
I left it bruised indigo with mellifluous force,
By both the luminescent bugs and the Empyrean sky,
My ballad was left, bound and dry.
I called your name, knee deep in that tender visage,
You didn't answer, so I sung to the fireflies at my windowsill,
I kept crooning, but I knew they never really cared for my fill,
Serenading until my throat was limp and hoarse,
I left it bruised indigo with mellifluous force,
By both the luminescent bugs and the Empyrean sky,
My ballad was left, bound and dry.
An allegory for loneliness, and being unable to make new connections. The fireflies in this instance being potential friends or lovers but fireflies die young, they don't last very long, neither do connections made in disparity.
