There are things about you that I believed and felt for the first time,
I believed you carried the sun with you wherever you stood and I never wanted to feel shade again because I bloomed iridescent;
Fell asleep and woke to your rhythms, both of them;
Finally understood why Alaska was written the way she was;
I didn't struggle or even hesitate to say it but you knew I did anyways and didn't heed your warning;
In secret whispers I wanted you to hear, the voice changes, the punctuations, the ideas, in the silence, the space, the linguistic gymnastics despite the fact I couldn't stand the language;
Our story will end the same way I design and create everything else,
With or without my will, it comes to pass and permeates,
Almost comedic that it's spilling into the whispers, the silence, the ideas and the rest of it, beloved sacred aspects withering to new haunting grounds;
Soon I'll stand in the cold dry earth in remembrance,
Unlearning and unleashing back to what I really am,
Lagertha, you once said 'No regrets yet every regret',
Now I already feel those words rattling in my bones,
I cannot to be allowed mourn or grieve when it comes,
For this is my design, my chaos and my fate.