Til the breath trickles from her lips
And the petals fall from her voice,
She shall stir and drift upon the wake
Which her skirts draw in the sand.
My, but how broken we have become
Hearts of taffeta, lace, and chiffon,
Perfumed by the sweetest of opium
Disintegrating, hollowing, we fall for Him.
Crumbling, you are a moth to a flame
Wings of lace and dandelion breath
Fallen to the subjective pariah of doubt
How do I begin to piece you back together?
Painting dreams in gold and rubies
Upon satin skin, freckled flesh.
Such a chimerical disposition
Saccharine as she is poisonous.
Hushed calls amongst the throws of larkspurs.
Troubled spirits on my chest
Where they laid to rest.
Doubt not what the stars do tell
They spoke in ink as they fell
Upon the rolling ocean’s sands
Between wasted buds and colourless hands
Which reach up for some hushed respite
Forever sinking in the folds of night.
Colour me copper and gold.