It wouldn't be a proper Saltburnt fΓͺte without you, even if the festivities aren't always to your liking.
You and I were in a rowboat on the North Sea. It was night, a dark moon, the cluster of the Pleiades bright overhead. Venus nestled among the Weeping Sisters, a sorrowful evening star.
You were naked in the bottom of the boat, your wrists and ankles bound with black rope. I washed your hair with sea water from a crystal jug, and a star fell into the sea beside us, illuminating everything for one bright moment. You wanted to catch it but insisted upon remaining bound. I told you you could have one but not the other.
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You and I were in a rowboat on the North Sea. It was night, a dark moon, the cluster of the Pleiades bright overhead. Venus nestled among the Weeping Sisters, a sorrowful evening star.
You were naked in the bottom of the boat, your wrists and ankles bound with black rope. I washed your hair with sea water from a crystal jug, and a star fell into the sea beside us, illuminating everything for one bright moment. You wanted to catch it but insisted upon remaining bound. I told you you could have one but not the other.