And when the Beauty

found the Beast,

Fate had changed.

He was cursed

To be bled
To death,

Lying on the deathbed

Made by tenacious thorns

Of lies and longing.

And she sat there

Near his picturesque grave,

Savouring the scent

Of monomorphic moonflower.

The tactful twilight

Turned her esoteric eyes

Go deep red

Like the blood

That still trickles down

The poignant petals

Of ever-glowing Rose,

For No True Love's Kiss

can resurrect the dead

When he shall die,

Take him and cut him out in little stars, And he will make the face of heaven so fine That all the world will be in love with night And pay no worship to the garish sun."― William Shakespeare

Tap the star and lemme know what you think. Comments and suggestions are precious