the noise murmurs
like an opera singer
throat spiraling into
symphonies piercingly raw and loud
captured by her grief
this opera singer strums
the strings of her vocal chords
into the ferocious howl of the wind
encased from the glance of heavens
as the tears weep from her opaque eyes
far away, her fingers may never scrape
the last little bit of what belonged to her
she screams and wails
beating her pale knuckles
into the dimples of her shrunken *******
they once were elements of life and beauty
of fertility sprung forth within the intimacy of dawn
yet the years have droned on
and have shaven the marble clarity
of her beautiful, beautiful skin

now, now this opera singer
she forever sits idle from the lime light
and watch sorrowfully as the whiteness
eradicate from her very existence
the marvelous glaciers which rose
with guild and pride
****** from the spoils of greed
her skin was once a city of ice towers
so sublime in its own untouched beauty

now, now she crumbles under her own weight
her shriveling curves of earthly beauty
her exposed sheets of molten dribbles
of melted starry light
the glimmering pebbles of her youth
now eroded into writhed swarms
cracking into a million shattered pieces
like chipped pieces of priceless china
or glossy surfaces of ancient porcelain
never to carry the fruits of tomorrow

the opera singer dutifully lays on her back
the stage have surfaced and drowned her skin
and as she sinks under the wretched toxins
her eyes will forever remain open
underneath the surface of extinction
and it swarms into her lungs
and scathe the dutiful orchestra
of her beautiful, beautiful voice
the remnants of her purity
bubbles upwards,
floating, far away,
as she dies, slowly
and echoes
fading,
melting,
dying
away.