Found the perfect image.

So sweet, that face of joy.

Entire soul of beauty found within.


I talk to my beloved day and night

Eyes grow weary, let out a sigh.

I battle sleep, wake with thirst.


He won't drink from it, break the surface.

Days go by gazing at the pools reflection.

It is he, that is paramour paramount.


Nemesis be ever damned.

Fool runs out of sand.

Cephissus and Liriope mourn; Thanatos claims.


“I tell you, my dear, Narcissus was no egoist… he was merely another of us who, in our unshatterable isolation, recognized, on seeing his reflection, the one beautiful comrade, the only inseparable love… poor Narcissus, possibly the only human who was ever honest on this point.”
Truman Capote, Other Voices, Other Rooms