I still see the beauty in her chaos,
as I recline in my chair staring at what is left of her within my capsule.
as for my vessel,
she left a burn-mark on my right arm; the one she instinctively held when we were at the edge of our free-fall..
a muse she clearly still remains.
a true love she was.
if I could ask for her distorted forgiveness once more .. I would.
but what is the point?