Acroteria

When I dream, my Dreams are spiced with Sodium That is dripping down thy Spine every time you tremble Impossible to distinguish is the finest Darkness From every chaotically rearranged Thread of Coal Framing thy Face, thou, Princess descended from the Times While Marble was still pale and the Olive wild Acroteria still consisting just of fresh Flowers Arranged as carefully as the inevitable Causality of our Love