There was a wildertinge to the air—purple-scented, fennel fronds shaking green as partiesfiligreed ... [+]
I would live in perpetual darkness Knowing you by touch alone— A relief of scales, a battle-scarred carapace Wrapped around your fiery bones.The mist would cling to us Like a skin after I sloughed mine off.In relentless fog, I would teach myself rebirthAway from curious eyes.You would know me by touch alone— Raw skin, sticky ectoplasm As I learned to reconstruct myself In the cradleland of blind prophets,Penumbral dreamtides,And abyssal monstersOf which I would love you most.