I Am Nothing, Leaning Towards a Thing
Sometimes the Winter does not the Summer make.
Sometimes the Winter is only take and take And Take.
Much like
My Quiet kissing dead slept Kat.
{Yes} His Looks
{As well} had a voice,
once…
{ Ice melting in Cranberry, Lime and Juice. }
But much like
The shade cries, to Love the Sun,
Oh, diocese of tension
I’m down to my Skin at last.
Please… Please
Rock me to sleep, the weather’s wrong,
I’ve nothing left to give to you
But Nails and Teeth,
Tongue and Eyes
And still He continues,
All bounce and sway, along
Till Crouching, Crunching, softest tender-est Noise.
The Midnight of Me descends….
Setting much quicker than he might of Enjoyed.
My Dear, Twittered Dove,
This Will { is }
Goodnight
And Die.
Voice of My Shoulder…
Voice of long Past Sins.
Was it Dust that I was Kissing?
Dreamed and Instant, Ghost of Voices lost and fire?
Do all Beginnings start without Shade?
Tell me… Answer, sweet and Quick…
Close region of kissing final Dust…
…
Just what was your Wish…
Other than Sand, burning,
Beneath my Eyelids.
…
-Cut.-
This Scene
Is End.
-thend-
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