Graceful locks dance down the curvature of her shoulders,
She speaks and it sounds of the hollow winds,
Echoing through the chambers of my heart as a chorus of angels,
She makes me so violently want to sin.
Galaxies dance around the edges of her eyes,
But in the sky all I see are the empty milky stars
Harmonies flow forth in unrepentant bursts
Only she knows what slate mountains caused these scars.
— The End —