With her soft lies of the golden Midsummer,
Hidden within her innocent whisper,
With her slow calm she could draw us closer,
With the tender touch of a gentle lover.

Ache us, we writhe- For we longed to taste her,
So painfully aware of her skin so tender,
We lived for the eyes of this beautiful dreamer,
That smothered our smiles until our final surrender.

My Sorrowfelt Angel, why can't you remember?
Through her firey rain- Once, we were lovers,
And now, here I lay in the soul of another,
Mouthing your name to the winds of forever.


With love,
Skyla


Penned by my hand on the 1st of Lanosian, in the year 121 MA.