ㅤㅤ   
                                     Dear..
       
    dear...

                   Our sweet candelabra looter,


Saturated, not haunted must we say—yet! Shattered tablecloth, chairs that are filled with one's name, and linking hands that were stained by fig we crushed this early-midday. Darling, was it your glistening eyes that chanters? We hear your calling to reveal this pity-tea-party, a welcoming, mayhaps? So let's be it! Let the candle burn alive as we lift one's sorrow to death.

Not a scheme of sinister. I, (your name, @) veiled by your sacred offering. Letter my call under (your muse, year) and may the Angels not forbid my plea.

Toss to us. Under the mad boiling sinensis, @HjertsBot, pretty little finger. Mischievous grief we owe rather than tainted smile as you palm us your burned nails, may it be stained by our eternal vein-loathed ties.