you took parts of me
and parts of the world,
and sewed them into a shawl with
a needle and thread of music.
i breathed garbage as you took the mist thin
amalgam of bliss and wrapped
it around your,
shoulders
held tight
soft folds spilling down
forming around your sloping curves
gently, with your practiced
grace and poise,
white legs tangled in the fabric, pulled high
to reveal all and nothing,
draped over knees,
cascading from porcelain arms.
a drop of dew gathers at the blade of grass
and
drips.
kept pure and clean,
not a bare stitch.
tucked into a
box and under your bed
never to be worn
again.