Eating a plate of chopped flesh of watermelon signals that Lunar eclipse is nearly forthcoming. Also be the flinch of one’s chaotic silence. Still the moon serves as the crucial lamp in the entire land. But it was occupied with blood for it was bitten by the teeth of abhorrence, agony, and conceit like shattered vessel of sand, suppressing fear in a peach sunset and field of rape flowers. Watching the moon’s grief turning into specks of dust as it showed me a glimpse of Mikasa’s whole world downfall, wrecked like pearls slipping off a string.
I could still remember those blank stares of her from a distance while cutting off her wings of liberty hindering to dance in her blue sky. She wasn’t murdered by finest blades or emblematic paraphernalia murderers. It was pink sky when she was murdered through blunt stabs of judgment through Eren’s spears agleam in the dying sun, Mikasa’s sanguine spilled on his face.
Full of scratches and holes, Mikasa’s beauty was ineffable and had Eren, my best friend, tongue-tied. She’s a rosy tint painter who could expunge the blemish of madness, and pallid in one’s face. A young lady with a bodacious suntan had blue marble eyes like the reflection Of Tenerife Sea sparkling like summer rain. She’s a comfort in bristles and plasma drawn from pinpricked fingers. Frozen in time, Eren who didn’t know if he even alleged anymore still pulled himself out from parasitic vines of atrocious past and turned to face the light that gave him warmth, Mikasa’s Komorebi.
A beast on Mikasa’s back bent from the void and a million stinging pains had embraced the dauntless dragon that forged from fire and debauchery such mania, holding the allure of paragon glimpsed profound within. Their love that held the blades of glory was like learning how to ride a bicycle, a mixture of fear and haste without a rehearsed prejudice and defense. Their scars and scabs could whisper the story of how they fell for each other. But there was a hidden single arrow that remained in Mikasa’s heel, the bewilderment of a child who was molested by her father was presaged projecting the mournful morrow, the watered down blood in a peach sunset and love of broken rape flowers.
But people’s hiss of epiphany like a saccharine venom honeysuckle plucked from a carbon monoxide verge. The mosaic of purest love fell, creating arrays on the floor like thin contour between pyromaniac and the illustrator---fireworks like paintbrush. Blinded by his shadows, Eren never picked Mikasa’s pieces of puzzling past up.
In a peach sunset, he took Mikasa on a date like lines that were always the abstract poster of apotheosis. The sparkle of light drawn in the sky while lying face upwards in the field of rape flowers, Eren reached her hand with a magnet of elixir and a caress on forehead through his lips. All of a sudden his spear of panacea had torn her dress through her bones. As the time weakened love, Eren’s caprice soul slipped out the vast of light and murdered Mikasa’s porcelain walls until her last breath.
Impressive one