Beautiful things don’t ask for attention.
ineffable contours, that cannot be tamed with a wordy depiction.
Like water running through my fingers,
Ephemeral, and leaving me to linger.
Caldera, my steaming  desire.
Instantiates a spy, that is ready to be set on fire.

Daughter of eve,
Carousel of dreams
You’ve drowned my angels
And left me  to die in a reverie.