• In a 100 years my lover lay beside the sprawl of leather shoes while the heart could be heard skipping a beat to the cold of sweat speaking silently, bonding inside a reflection that didn't turn its head. I looked on with tears dimming the entrance that was a sea by now with distancing gentleness that stuck on eye bags spotting all of its own tree lines for the first time. Rings that blankly shut, staring at fleece eminating from her that hid its potency inside the frame of my pale nuckle scape, growing more astray from natural texture, keeping in mind that correlation was now implying a causation for the wtiness (who knew this answer clearly in rotations tricking it till no end, tossing it till the ends could not be met), completed her finger creases with its nimble dimples inside every shadow glen between. I felt her first, by belly side proceeded by disfunction becoming all interior vessal that no longer wished for atmospheric pressures that reddenned eyes ill from whence glanced. And guilts recollecting more inside those peripheral matches then the nostril or lip in descent. The feeling of shiny heart shaped locket chains and a perfumed hanky was all that was left as it gave off blacks and whites that resiliently overshadowed the meaning of red. I felt her first, by belly side instantiously which corrupted her quick memorial more when it was struck like the harp by the worms.

    I closed my eyes while the flight of white moths that finished its flowery tabestry that hung, just above the railings, grew like a hand and dissapated before it looked at the bright grey clouds. For a crippling truth fell from the bells unto unheard prose that died too long ago.