Bodily eyes enjoy fragmenting
dissonance above her tongue,
like the last regard of bids and
oiled bye's.
A facet mirrors a ruby glimmer,
the final of my curve
grimaced upon staggering eyelids.
And would you even dare
to pocket the vomit of the future,
slipping in surprising residue?
There are no empty reflections,
ones you hold in curled fists--
--at least, not for tonight.