A summer dress, perhaps
deserves a summerish redress.
In the witching hour, solitude's domain,
there is naught but
I, and the white-hot eclipse for my eye.
I have one hand beneath your neck,
and another behind your knees.
In these gloves, I will drown and resurrect
my fair dress, one-and-only Sunday Best,
sodium hypochlorite cocktail mess.
My alternative hydrotherapy
is a remedy from my enemy.
You traffic through this well of hell in ease.
A fire drunken on the Lethe.
Deliquesce in clinical scents.
Your skin thrives on the purge,
but mine cannot survive.
Sep 14, 2020
Sep 14, 2020 at 1:17 AM UTC
A summer dress, perhaps
deserves a summerish redress.
In the witching hour, solitude's domain,
there is naught but
I, and the white-hot eclipse for my eye.
I have one hand beneath your neck,
and another behind your knees.
In these gloves, I will drown and resurrect
my fair dress, one-and-only Sunday Best,
sodium hypochlorite cocktail mess.
My alternative hydrotherapy
is a remedy from my enemy.
You traffic through this well of hell in ease.
A fire drunken on the Lethe.
Deliquesce in clinical scents.
Your skin thrives on the purge,
but mine cannot survive.