Beauty wears the cold breath of death
the way a ******* wears a smile.

Is this casual brutality a sign of the times?
Or have you watched the news in the last
24 hours?

The mirror sung a thousand prayers
to the God; now felt forsaken
with 31 flavours to his love.

They pierced your body
with their spears of love
and hung you up by the hair
to dry.

You recite your green finch song
to the deafness of those above,
and they still hold
your lace burdened hand
to quiet your sorrowful heart.

Lay your head upon the pillow
as tiredness takes us both
as the morning rears its ugly head
and the day becomes yours again.

Then raise your golden brow
to the freedom of Night Angels
who know your secret kiss
where all desires roam amiss,
watch yourself seek for home
in the city's barrio's and filth
down *** sodden alleys
where happiness
is spilled.

The Centurions of hunger
who's empty bellies predict
this shift of power.

By these shadows of delight
you don the mantle of delirium
It stretches down
to your wrists
and grows taut by this slip of Fate
your barrier of Morpheus
a tattoo by Bacchus
a scar tissue kiss of Eros.

Your beauty burned like an ember
that puckered my skin
My love wrote a sonnet
in invisible ink.

"Goodbye"
a silver bullet
that is tasteless
unlike your kisses.

And your finger slipped upon the trigger.