My dearest, fairest, Imogen,
The light of my heart; my eternal life,
My lavender storm;
The one without whom
I wouldn’t know to survive:
You’re a field of blooms,
Lavenders and wisterias,
Your voice sweet like peaches,
Accent thick like honey,
She who reaches (and reaches and reaches);
You’re the forbidden fruit,
Gods’ nectar: ambrosia,
Capable hands, commander of rooms—
Helen of Troy, launching thousands of ships
in search of you, to foreign lands;
You always believed yourself to
be doomed by the narrative,
An ending for you,
Not intend to be positive;
Red is the color, painting your life,
In storms and dust, in blood and scars,
But I beg you to fight,
I beg, please survive;
Purple the color painting your body,
Lightning winding like rivers,
Around your curves,
Your hills and your valleys;
I pray at this, your altar,
Beg for your peace,
Psalms do not falter,
Words do not cease;
The moon hangs above,
A looming threat,
A prison of mind,
Not treated as equal, treated in kind;
Your mind painted black,
Melodies, stillness and calm,
On Exandria awaits you, my love,
A treasure I’m sure you’ll be able to find;
There’s always been loneliness,
No joy, barren of hope,
Now there is my presence,
An anchor to keep, a tether to hold;
By voices you’re haunted,
You’re not worth saving,
By thoughts you’re taunted,
You’re goods, stark tainted;
The long lost prodigy,
God Eater’s vessel,
This is your soliloquy,
Hope shall yet nestle;
Beloved daughter, beloved child,
Crown of amethyst hair, amethyst eyes,
You’ll forever be my maiden fair,
Fair maiden, crossing through crimson skies;
You’re more than the Gods, Who are but children just now, You’ve beaten the odds, Godhood bestowed upon thou;
(after all you’re already wearing a crown)
So this, dear Imogen,
My soul, my dearest of hearts,
Is my forever promise to thee,
That in this life and beyond,
We shall never again have to part.
- this is a promise (is a promise, is a promise)