It falls like a gentle poison, glazing
blood and bile - a slick and sickly sheen too thick
for breath or breadth of thought, muscles lazing,
eyesight hazing as though facing a lick
of light and shade - the flicker of candlewick
that limns the mind but obscures the fine crease
between skin and bone, beneath heart and ease
that pleats the soul delicately, like lace
so fine it binds the loosened fragile piece of self forever lost to its rightful place.
Post a Comment
Thanks for writing!