Page 42 - 2023 eMag Final Draft

“Shall we not close our eyes?” The gurgling tide

The twelve hours I dance for you with strings attached,

In plastic shoes and itchy laces.
In a crystal meadow you held my gaze, You won’t return the spark you snatched,
Midnight faded and passed away. Laughing along with featureless faces.
You beckoned me through the twilight haze,

And thus began my living day. “Not even yourself.”

“To see what really matters.” The burning cage

The inner glimmer The silky-current saccharine aria,
Spake this demoiselle prance.
You beheld my metronomic gait, Revolving diamond melancholia,
Steps fluxing yet unwavering. Ignites my ghost dance.

Pure trailing fabric in spate,
A beauty no one can sing. “At the very least.”

“Then we’ll be happy.” The approaching light

The stained invitation Your false halo on the soaked earth,

You murmur how you love me so.
All I do and all you see, But you’ve long extinguished the hearth,

You admire from the heart. And like always the north wind begins to blow.
Then under your holy decree,
You would improve upon this art. “I wish we could start over.”

“...Right?” The broken lament

The surgical curiosity If only I didn’t take your hand,

Defaced of all the stars in me.
Under midnight ink you clasp my arms, Now left tattered in forlorn sand,
Unravelling my essence. Seedling, hear this survivor’s plea.
Ripping away all my charms,
Forcing my obsolescence. “And let us wake up as flowers.”

“Oh, I see...”

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