lilymoore

oh my, little bird your feathers are dripping red all over the rug.

cypress trees are heard crying as the wind rips them from the ground. carbon, that is all, lost in the wind. children watch them rocket passed the window. catch one, ...

Wooden like your heart, thrown into the burning stove and melting to ash.

Memories raining down on the fresh, upturned earth you're sleeping under.

On the range top stove, the cracked tin kettle screeches and steam melts her face.

Sharp and numerous the needles break her white flesh and burn her youth away.

Please - won't you stop to play ring around the rosey unicorn dreamer.

Ticking down her life is a watch wound up enough to give her one breath.

Was that an F sharp? You ended the sonata with a little smirk.

There wasn't a thing I could do to save you dear. But whimper goodbye.

Remembering dreams she hadn't meant to have had but can't be rid of.

Aeolus suffers for the misdeads of thunder tainting hurricanes.

Dancing through veils that sigh with moonlight breezes calling out for blood.

January spins in a storm of broken sweat while I kiss snowflakes. (We're going to run out of months soon you guys!)

with soft gray rainfall. She dances through the flowers and sings a June-song. (I think we have a month-theme going on.)