sleeping chrysalis
under my fingertips
i lose you.
amber gemstones
decorate your

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 
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.

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