LilyStar2004

i. opaque soul swaying in the decaying sun rorschach red stains your hands, cheeks, your chest and you're finally, finally smooth as silk. ii. but before blood dripped from the tips of jade tendrils, your palm was pushed inside out, your fingers cracked into forty, and you were twenty-eight going on midlife crisis and your siren was so pure. iii. you are a strange fruit ripped from a branch like a ripe apple as your full mouth widens for the dust of an imploding sunset. iv. opaque soul swaying in the decaying sun rorschach red stains your hands, cheeks, your chest and you're finally, finally smooth as silk.