Shards of broken glass fell upon your shoulders And into your hoodie Like glistening amethysts Flecked in their reflected hearts With the blood orange glint
It is not the horse I fear, nor the crossroads, nor the rare beauty of the moment, but that she will never return and gone she will be lost to all but memory and words.
The Treatment, who had been on a rare foray into the outside world to fulfill toilet and mouse related obligations had stopped in his tracks and was looking at Daniel in disbelief.