****** 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 ***** of the future,
slipping in surprising residue?

There are no empty reflections,
ones you hold in curled fists--

--at least, not for tonight.