The Chemistry of Tears

The Muse, of which there are two –

(Artist: Aya Kato)

And from my fingers, the words bemuse –

Her chilled fingers calmed the pooled blood of battle and she reveled in the brief relief behind her swollen eyes. It has never been said that Eve did not cry.

Yet the storm can only build above peaceful seas, so, in the constant distance a disturbance awaits, one of chemical disgrace. As the storm released, corrosion unleashed, and the mountains were battered and broiled.

She woke to find herself wrapped in a scaled coil, but of the coy or of the serpent, she could not tell. The Garden was backwards, her sins nonexistent.

There is always clarity, even in the thickest confusion, and so she deemed, man as the beast with whom she lay. With wrought venom the vegetarian serpent fed on an orchard of choices which loomed in her head.

 

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