【Moths】

My darling boy, I held him in my palm so gingerly, not wishing to tarnish a wing. In his compound eyes, I saw myself reflected in a thousand lights—rose coloured in tint, our affections mutual in our lack of communication.

The world has no taste for his love, the six soft hands desiring no more than to explore plant and stone alike. Truly humanity has come into a new despair, low enough to despise the foundation of this world—their beauty to be recognized only when salvation is long forgone.