April Imperium

Green as these words are, they ring from the rostrum of an Imperator. A sovereign 

desire dwells within. I long to be the center of attention, a Sun to satellites starving 

for my light. I am insatiable. Hereafter, every month must be April. 

April shall embrace me with softness, its dewed kiss. I was borne from and for April. 

I am cruel as the time I wish to embrace. The Sun's smile seems so kind, yet it burns. 

Still, I love April with all my heart. The time and clime, especially its cruelty, appeal 

to my lust for Imperial Pomp. Bring White Horses and we'll ride through eternal 

April, rose petals anointing our brows and thorns adorning wrists. 

My bride's clouded eyes mirror the flecked blue of April skies. 

Then comes night and her empyrean of dark hair...