Here's my lame attempt to wax poetic:
She fashioned out of scrap, a branding iron bearing her name, took it to a smoldering fire and ruthlessly seared his heart aflame.
He doused the hot metal with a thousand tears, cowering in shame, releasing the acrid stench of a burning soul that had almost gone insane.
When she withdrew the smoking implement, a raw and excruciating wound remain, in the exact likeness of, the mirror-image of her name!
The wound had healed over a million moons, but the unfeeling imprint still appears like a stain, distinct and indelible, a reminder of his once agonizing pain...
No comments:
Post a Comment