Bloody Sun

Jul 29, 2025
1 min read

A real man, I think

In flesh and blood

Should be of a stature that

Can caramelize onions

An alchemists heart

Birthed in darkness, caked in dirt

Layered in armor and made

Few would suspect how

Something so tearful and sharp

Might soften to sweetness and melt on the tongue

Studious patient touch

Merely hold it in fire, for as long as it takes

Scour it clean, break it down, break apart

Le soleil ni la mort ne se peuvent

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