Because becauseThe pitch black was simply blindingfireflies spilling from the mirrorNight as dark as your hair, my dear.We had evergreen autumn skies that winterfrost-burnt like a freezing cold oven,sunken, rusting at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean.But we always had each other's arms for warmthAmmunition, absolution, artilleryfires of battle and shrapnel still slowly smoulderingBut they say wars are not won with weapons.I singwhen I am all alone because it sounds sweeterI'd like to think that I look simply dashing in the dark.Yes, only as your hair is, my dear dark, I mean. oh, of course, dashing as well.But I want