Coagulation

Wound those buried with the toothed crack of sky. A thread of buttercup cream tinted silver rips the alpine cottony edges. A biscupid fuse pushes the cerise stream through the veins, its navigation nourished by sweet citrus heavens; wash of Summers, green leaves, gardens. Lust flush like a silk shawl embroidered with a pearly flame. The storm lambastes sunlight colored windows that cast an embrace into our wintered dusk, beryl tones of which absorb the shaded portrait of loss. Zoetic flags drowned.