All the gardens rose beside her throne, and the pale skies matured under her feet.
The lovers were starving to populate her soul.
The wind concealed her skin, and the elements hid her gorgeous details.
The poison was her route to a better future.
Can you free me again, beloved?
I’m a walking cell, and inside of me are all the dead poet's ease, and the scent of my ruined past.
The poison was her route, where is my pathway?