claire

you are nonpareil...

pearls do not compare to your eyes,

synchronize,

make everything seem seamless and continuous.

your beauty is stellar

a constellation of energy centers burning endless in the night,

hub

of the soul.

pity me,

do not destroy me...

i do not ask for...

how strange your suffering...

flowers in the attic

to quell puritan souls

their pain is endless and cruel,

foucault's pendulum.

the hairs of roses

thorn in the night, buds of your crown drowned by kleos

lovely naked skin of roses

decked in glass

shines of your eyes

ciliated into the day...

you pour too much

you hate me too much

i'm a just a midget really

evolving into small people.

delicate dovely feet

like tulips all eyes and lips...

do not cut so deeply.