Dear Gatsby, When I look at you I see yellow, but mostly black. When the fireflies fly The ladies sway to and fro’. How long have you wondered? Through the big lights. The perilous carriage. Unlike the past we no longer adjourn the future.
I close my eyes in my bleached dress With Letter in hand, Black shadows run down my face And I envision better times. I see you and me laying in the field. Simpler were the times. When there were no restrictive shadows existing with me, When you were still enlisted.
What was inside of your Soul, Gatsby? Was it fact Or fiction? Both can deceive, you know. Both can kill the innocent character and the hero. Were the tales you told Molded into your blood? Did the darkness annex your soul To freeze?
What was it like? To know that your core was to be engaged. When everything you ached for wasn’t designed for you, Anymore. Was it frightening? To be the character under the satanic narrator. The band around your mind Will ceaselessly choke my finger.
What was once a fog of affection is a gray pit hole. I know you’ve tried hard, but being counterfeit isn’t factual. You can’t even sustain my thoughts. And that is why this vow is truly The end of us. I see the yellow that is scorched into Blackness. Night is coming. Red moon is rising.