sleeping chrysalis
under my fingertips
i lose you.
amber gemstones
decorate your
skin
faded statue
worn out by the sun
sleeping archangel
in a cloak
of tears.
in early hours
of the morning
i trace
your figure
where bleeding
wings
made of
ancestral bones
still nestle.
sitting in a corpse
of a bedroom
naked flame
lighting fire
on bare lips
the room moves
to the rhythm
of a mournful melody
but my words
won't dance
to the rhythm
of my own voice.
