Hello, my porcelain love, you have grown weak, and your wings have withered some. Your once peaceful sky is now clouded. It is darkening, preparing for the downpour— a downpour of your own tears.
Oh, my forgotten love, my mournful consort on these empty, gray streets that lead to our house, but no longer to our home. I come closer, sensing the cold whispering, taunting the memories of us, when we used to glow and set fire to this world, when nothing mattered but you and me, when we were incandescent together. What’s left of us now?
Only cracks in our hearts and soundless songs in our nights, only masks on our faces and numbness in our wake. Frost has wrapped around our home, and it’s cold in our bed, and so it is in our hearts.
We turn around and leave. We stray and get lost, chasing but not finding the fire that has once consumed us. The flame has burned out, and all that remains are the ashes.
Goodbye, my porcelain love! You’re shattered. You’re shrouded in bruises and sorrows, and your light has turned dark. Your sun has set and night reigns over your heart.
But patience, my porcelain love. The longest darkest night breaks into the most dazzling of dawns.