whirlpool

 

It’s funny isn’t it? The fire burning in our eyes, people’s eyes, and then at once that flame could go away. I once breathed in the fresh air that flowed through my hair, took in the smell of the deep aroma. Your shadow casting its own spell upon me. It reminded me of calla lilies, a feint fragrance of repose- the scent of death. Scarred petals matted across lush grass. You had to be Hades himself.

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