your gloom rubies roam the miracle, miraculous; lasting orange in the parlor of our most red wednesday... your mood blooms in the parlor of our most red Wednesday
in convolution, bathing everywhere in discrete voluptuous, nocturnal by day and dawn purged. a complete confusion of unique bliss and utter distraction,
masking the perfect lonesome of lost buttons.
to magnify the utter not so !
and not so
at all !

Mab is the Queen.

you float on black goats. fallen. small feet in fleece of midnight. star lit.
your imminence faire beyond pondering. Literally.
you are dreamt intensely.
you leave me as empty as a horn of plenty [ enigma ]
where you. And you alone; have spread
your feast.

you float on white lichen and baby's breath,
churning the waters of auguries
too lovelorn to be well met, but yet, they sustain life
at just that pitch
that forks
the road
there ! you glow in the mirk of my desire. gilded in shadows
far too fierce for the sun's darkside
there !
you abide in
nameless
wisp

your heart, Fey
and indolent.
and your
throne

cats !