Ashes of Deceit,
Blown into
The Face of Innocence,
Are Dissolved by
His Fallen Angel’s Teardrops.
Heavenly moonbeams shone through the dark foliage of the forest.
Sleep deserted her, and the nightingale, perched on the majestic oak’s highest branch, sang her symphony to the estranged lovers.
Their minds were attacked by humanly spars, and the debris of jealousy, distrust, anger and doubt lingered.
The little nymphs, nod their heads, some in laughter, some in pity, others in shame.
Some left the warmth of their flowery abode and fluttered around the princess to whisper the truth into her ear.
White Hot Rage,
Emblazoned in
The Depths of her Heart,
A Ruthless Manifestation,
An Ice-Coated Pastry?
She paid no heed.
The fairies glanced at her sullen air, and they sprinkled their stardust around her.
Their wings shimmered, reflected on the soil’s lustrous aura.
The princess was oblivious to their message.
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