Whispy drafts of her forlorn cares,
amplified
by a roiling beckoning
of fractured heart and vacant dreams.

Having streamed her anger
like a bitter sap,
I recoil at the vapid sting
which dresses my mouth
like a ruby curse.

An alabaster prison.
A darkened glimpse.
A broken longing.
A slender curve torn by
a passing glance.

Stay.

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God is a Woman

Feign softly,
recursive splendor
for my heart’s timbre
clatters sullenly
absent such repose.

Gently, is her night.
A plush, velvet longing, cloaked in resplendent poise.
A chalice, cased darkly. A perfect architecture.
Beholden of nations, bearer of quiet, desirous ruin.

Reeling, is her draught,
ambergris replete upon a furtive shore.
Whispered, earthy sighs, murmuring anima,
stolen freely from an ancient, nectarous maw.

Take softly,
recursive splendor
for my heart’s timbre
clatters sullenly
absent such repose.