Glacial advocacies amongst asphodel tides—
Such a sight!
Where would midnight be if not for the
Crescent waltz of the moon,
Spiraling into untoward lunacy;
Consumed with arrogant throes of
Calla flesh, blossoming in your sleep?
Taste my saline melancholy
And erase the
Starred question marks in my lungs…
Where shall you seek me?
My forgetful heaven persists
To thrive in amnesiac rhapsodies,
Euphonies of pink
Molting off your tongue like feathers
On a weeping angel on clouds of
Your descending grasp;
Gentle yet merciless in my soul.
Your quiet breaths
Drenching my bones, my every whim,
I feel you on my skin, my hair, my lips; your
Words of floral adornment
Assaulting me. Your falling meteors
Touch my eyes, drowsy sparks fading into neon
Melting me into neverwhere.