Mea Ophelia (En Aquam)

My own inferno laid beside your serenity– a final prayer, a whispered benediction against your bloated, battered lips; a final kiss. Perhaps, mercifully behind the darkness of my shut eyes —maybe, my love— I will lay mistletoe —innocent, deathly— to your torn and bloody feet

Incestuous scum! Suffer, O’ suffer!

Gone to Helheim, the dirty, foul fiend— when I am done and bring upon the end myself. How Spit-slick lips and flushed cheeks once burned rampantly with our ardor!

Have you been gifted with the wreath of flowers meant for another or has the taste of death’s bitter wine led you to this aquatic grave? Is this what love does to someone so frail, so delicate—? Such fragility warped by the taint of insanity.

Bleeding for me; how lovely you seem, painted and drained. Bare feet torn and bloody at the soles from the unforgiving earth and stones; singing me a soft melody to see me in the great hall of the afterlife; an image of you walking through the pasture

Holding you gently for me, the river’s tender, loving grasp ensnares your features in an azure tomb. The heavens itself painted your rosy cheeks and hair, your earthy eyes with the gleaming dusk; how heavy your beauty drags and keeps you asunder.

My darling claimed to the hall of Folkuangr by the hash kiss of Frigga herself. Rosy, petal-soft lips withered and bruised blue and purple, decayed green. Beneath the murky depths of the jealous river’s flow, your fiery hair is set ablaze. You are beautifully broken.