Axiomatic Sliver
statuesque thy porcelain - so bright/or pure
art thou hung as in some sacred place before
a trophy to the human form; desire paramour,
and thus, ‘twould sing sweet songs of grace, adieu.
in museums, thy pulchritude doth abide - it flys
to be viewed by those who pass by - day/night
but in thine eyes - there lies a story - hidden - within
that tells us all of love’s deep play; to an untimely end
lachrymose fountains ribbon, splatter sanguinary drop
countenance in quicksilver, snarl-like smile washes visage
some places bloodstains don’t come off, covered in spots
transcendent shots thy kiss of life, sen en met, when death stops
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