The Fall

T h i have heard the lifetime of an empire is two hundred and fifty years give or take— centuries of golden glory e before the fall ours dies in its infancy decades passing every other week until our reign slips into history and your fingers slip out of mine— losing you to passing time us hopeless stargazers mapping inevitable across the skies always defy fated endings— my fire mirrored in yours when sparks fly in solar flares like destined lovers like the sleeping king who dreams of return i wait for you to call on me to need me once more— our story retold as we build our empire anew and i can love you again, bright angel