She’ll send a tempest to embrace your body. I pray that it embraces you well. Seraphina, my persistent dread, A single rose lays in the garden, one you had previously taken from when your light shone upon me. From when I still relished in your aura. The reverie evokes animosity, in the same essence as the artificial moon. And how you covered my eyes with roses to shield me from your ominous glaze.
For how many thorns shall I need to remove, for your facade to finally, eternally, vanish from my reasonings? Seraphina, my bloodied reminiscent, The masquerade has melted away, just like your roses did, under your own parching, wavering flame. Where in this vast universe would we be if your luminescence was from the heart? My perception is dim, gloomy, but a fragment remains, from before my tempest– I don’t suppose you’ll witness, but there remains a single, flickering light. Seraphina, my vexation, The thorns that once pricked my eyes now form an enclosure, embracing my defiled, bruised body. I, who once craved your essence, now crave the void that once devoured me whole. Now, the obscurity of your gray eyes no longer contain the stars we had once admired together. Seraphina, my vengeance, The goddess of Rhamnous awakens from her prolonged slumber and gazes upon you. She’s tended to the thorny gashes in me– the harrowing gaps filled with remnants of a flame.
Seraphina, my past, I hope the tempest encircles you well.
Your masquerade has become barely a flicker within the sky. Shining now with new stars
and an authentic lunar. Nemesis has spoken, and I pray that you receive thorns of your own, to agonizingly pluck from your eyes.
Avery Afseth Daydream | 2025
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