[Beautifully ornate papercut stars are delivered to Yasaburo's mailbox throughout the day until the mailbox overflows. They're made from a pearlescent paper, glittering and silvery, and absolutely breathtaking, if one ignores the fact that they've been dipped in blood.
The stars have been cut from lines of poetry.]
Pillow'd upon my fair love's ripening breast
Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath, And so live ever or else swoon to death.
I understand only a little, I can hardly see, but it seems to me that its singing has the color of damp violets, of violets that are at home in the earth, because the face of death is green, and the look death gives is green
And you as well must die, belovèd dust
And you would murmur tender words, forgiving me, because you were dead
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
letters
Date: 2015-05-25 04:30 pm (UTC)The stars have been cut from lines of poetry.]
Pillow'd upon my fair love's ripening breast
Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath, And so live ever or else swoon to death.
I understand only a little, I can hardly see,
but it seems to me that its singing has the color of damp violets,
of violets that are at home in the earth,
because the face of death is green,
and the look death gives is green
And you as well must die, belovèd dust
And you would murmur tender words, forgiving me, because you were dead