A splinter dawn, her picture frame,
Wood reaps this sin to her mist…
The blister for the manning soul’s adage,
Asleep, I’d drink her enchanted kiss…
Swaying winds to her benighted prism,
Lunacy adores her barb that slays…
Forsaken asleep, this fragile prison,
For agony, in her bruise I’d lay…
Mellow sinks this vein in wine,
This spell slits this breath apart…
Her hair recites fate in mimes,
Faith lost to her bristle heart …
In entrapment, she’d lay beside,
Her nails clutched this skin in vibes…
The broth washed the lust aside,
Her chanting wept pain in rhymes…
The Roslyn sang on its bow alone,
Her notes played my sorrow tone…
The jury shivers to a king dethroned,
The opera played as her weep adored…
Her curtains tied and this play was staged,
That song she sang to this night estranged…
The actor bows down to a blizzard’s rage,
And sleep, she’d lay in my winter haze…
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