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Literature Text
Her name is Penelope.
Her hair is a fine silk,
Her eyes are a warm amber,
Her smile is only legendary.
Oh how sweet,
My Penelope,
How tender your lips are,
How joyous your words be,
How I make you laugh,
To hear its melody.
No, not now.
Her name is Penelope.
Her hair tarnished red: matted,
Her eyes a glassy amber,
Her smile in a distant land.
Oh how cruel,
My Penelope,
How chapped your lips are,
How lonesome your words be,
How I make you cry,
When I wish for a sweet melody.
Is it my fault,
That I'm dying,
In your arms?
Her hair is a fine silk,
Her eyes are a warm amber,
Her smile is only legendary.
Oh how sweet,
My Penelope,
How tender your lips are,
How joyous your words be,
How I make you laugh,
To hear its melody.
No, not now.
Her name is Penelope.
Her hair tarnished red: matted,
Her eyes a glassy amber,
Her smile in a distant land.
Oh how cruel,
My Penelope,
How chapped your lips are,
How lonesome your words be,
How I make you cry,
When I wish for a sweet melody.
Is it my fault,
That I'm dying,
In your arms?
This was inspired by a character I made a couple years ago and the fact that no matter the universe, he'll end up dying and his sweet Penelope has to be there to witness it.
Posted on 31-07-15
Posted on 31-07-15
© 2015 - 2024 hazellifer
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