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Nacre's Balter
I asked a hundred questions and had a thousand thoughts, but she never spoke; in this June dawn, she never awoke. Tears streamed down her cheeks as if they were letters, her delicate skin as dulcet as a sapphire pearl. Was she ever gone? Have I ever slept? O Nacre. I miss your tiny Balter in your lovely clothing. Our fate is not woven by rocks or crystals; rather, it is the result of our dalliance. I wish to confess the things I composed for you, but I am helpless, my darling, for I cannot confess to bones and flesh or a lifeless corpse. I wish to meet you this morning, perhaps I could no longer, a sincere smile on your face rather than the one yesterday, you wore.
© jude
© jude
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