Slow Collapse

Cold silk in the
Candle, lithe
Dear pressing
Tongue, there’s
A lesson, for
The dark, a
Lily that floats
Through the
Skylight and
Meets the
Nova meadow,
The fluorescent
Memory of
Blue feather
Descending a
Staircase, your
Sleek trousers,
Prim blazer
Shaking tiny toes
In rough shoes,
Leaving me
Without a
Chance, cause,
To treat you
Without delight,
In flamboyant
Gowns and
Expensive plates
And deep
Rifts pushing,
Shrill whines
And bitter
Wines and a
Winding chorus
Of little
Nothings I
Drift, a
Butterfly into
Daring to
Kiss a bud
That once was
Venom, dipping
Me towards death
When I was
A youngling, a
Devil, a
Savvy eater,
Now, you
Address me,
Sweep callous
Hand into mine,
So it is
A slow
Chilling me
Madsome, and
Your white teeth
Are splendorous.

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