What of beauty? By it my
heart was broken, but for a
moment I breathed much easier—a
light; scattered shards on
endless seas where my
love was stolen from me
I held my fingers in between
dust pages on failing spines—
a ship of bones, its ribs a
sordid home. it bled through
the wood—stank of twisted knuckles,
bitter herbs and acrid hope. and
I was a wretch poorly clothed
A dusk so black even
darkness cursed, but I
lost you in vinegar soil
foul-mouthed and stricken ill,
With you I have fallen and
fall still
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