Lion Head Mesa Primrose

sugary fruit on wintry air, taunting the last wasps to die.

prince of chaos stood silent in the arbors built by efforts aimed in aspiration for what was divine.

he did not expect to see neith when he turned, and so he was transfixed when his eyes fell upon her lone form.

over and over khaemwaset had returned to the throne room, replaying — attempting to revisit and remember what had gone wrong.

now the proud eyes — blurred. he wanted to turn away, to reject neith as deeply as she had done to him.

but it was his tears which invited her now.