A Story of Love, for Rozz Williams

Youth feels immortal, so it easily befriends Death.
But Youth dies inside a million times.
Maturity thinks and remembers, crying ugly tears.

Written on November 6, on Rozz Williams's birthday.
About a bright, bright candle which burned at both sides. And about unrequited love, on Earth as it is in Heaven.

As imperfect as this might be, after all these years living on with his memory, I finally decided to write something for him. Or so I hope, that he is somewhere, like I think he ultimately believed. What's certain, I wrote this for myself. Read if you know him, or read if you wish.
If you find you don't like it, or disagree, please respect: of all things, this was written out of love.