From the years of night
Waved hair blackened by crept closets
Ember eyed man with little to none plans
Moonlight swaying and heavy air
Broken glass cuts the soles
Bottled spirits ignite the flames
Prolonged memories in a camera flash
Bouquet of eyes
Irises of full bloom
Perception with conception; warp the honest truth
Legs wrapped about the leg; no more shall you feel youth
Feet gliding across the canvas, for only a truth of likeness
Lovely lorals whisper my names
Speak in tongues of honest grace