Titles are Overrated

Part 119

Wipe the tears from your starry eyes,

stop them from staining your

primrose pink cheeks.

The war is over,

my darling -

the treacherous storm

has passed.

Unclench your fists,

glistening red,

and take my hand.

We'll go where the meadows

are bathed in the sun,

and filled with flowers

that we may watch decay.

promises perish and so do we

Perish

To die or be destroyed, especially in a violent or untimely manner.