#channing m

My delicate amber, you, my autumn blood, where everything has withered, but you remain, you my rimm'd bower, my scarlet grotto, I have sharpened my élan vital under your darkest hues. You my autmn blood, I, your immortal seer, your winter bare, I am the dried cloves that you have pressed ceaselessly between your soul, and now, now I reek of eleemosynary rivets.

Perhaps, our tears are a way of telling us that we carry an ocean within the walls of our heart.

Somewhere where the dawn meets the stars, I will wait for you.