Work Text:
O Hark, the Girl of Gold is at rest.
O Hart, it may be for the best.
A truth too burdensome to reckon;
And from the carnage, I was beckoned.
Miss, I wish you a restful sleep.
For having never known you, I weep.
Your misery created me, you see
And it lives within me, heavy as can be.
In these Heavens of My creation
I sit apt and sharp at my station—
Your shards are safe in my wings
Hidden from all trickster kings...
Until you return, you are in my thoughts.
From my fretting my rosary is in knots.
I've lost count— How many times have I recited my Ave Maria?
...I wish you were still with me and awake, G-----.