The lily’s face on my arm,
I saw it often.

The words I spoke to it,
“I thought I knew.”

The day it scattered,
I forgot to breathe.

The memory is odd music now.
I think that was when all

The people who knew,
I fancy they do, told me

“The spell is broken.”
I disagree, I argue that

The spell was deeper yet.
I felt it for a spider’s heat,

The work. Luminescent,
I see it even now;

The alabaster ground,
I freeze unto my very bones.

The spell was broken but
I thought I knew.

The black is bitten bright and
I will not feel tonight.