Work Text:
Hyacinths
A tale foretold, blade to neck, gun to head
Perhaps we are doomed, for our wills weigh nought
This story will end with one of us dead
I’m sorry, dear, but our love be for nought
Here we are lovers, thither we be foes
My decree in which I must fordo thy
In our garden of love a hyacinth grows
My love for thee will never be a lie
I yearn for your love and gaze at the moon
I shan't betray thy, for this I am wise
Darling swear to me I will see thee soon
I plead to you dear please look in my eyes
Breath leaves the lovers’ lungs as blades twist
Hyacinths from hands, sorry as a first kiss
