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