What a tangle love is.

I thought it was real. But by morning, all I had left were fragmented pieces, shifting images with no beginning or end.

What a tangle love is.

I look at him more than a little shocked by his words knowing how much he likes being right being in charge most people do.

Home. That wonderful place I was lucky enough to revisit no matter how short a time finally realizing it's not relegated to just one single place its wherever you make it.

It's over. Absolutely, completely, eternally over

The other side of midnight’s hour strikes a herald thrice rung Seer, Shadow, Sun—together they come Sixteen winters hence—the light shall be eclipsed Leaving darkness to ascend beneath a sky bleeding fire