truth be told i’m leaving my heart right here below the glass chandelier on 63rd St. for you to play with, any time you walk past.
the morbid dance of incoming storms will douse the flames of my dreams, yet, you will always be my incomplete thirst.
after i’m gone, come, without remorse and immerse in my colors under this delicate murano glass. to see for yourself how the heavy fragrance of black orchids could’ve played, cheek to cheek with the wild scent of green vetiver