Ephemeral
Speak to me in tones of fire, honey and acid playing on your tongue, lovely china doll bound in silk chains, snowblind and roseblood, scarred with scintillating presence and frail broken majesty, hands of a priest and eyes of a panther, chimera let loose in the night to scrape sand from the sails and lick burning wounds, wildflowers cover you with the stationary masquerade, one true dear duchess claiming you whole, colors swirling and darkness whispered, you were my world with a glance, deceived unknown with porcelain sleep and calligraphy manners, lemonade decisions and violet perfume, stumbling in the darkness to flick on a candle and shatter the mirror on the ceiling, display a yin-yang smile and preserve the crystal ball in case the moon decides to melt forever into the sea.
The overabundance of charm and silver spoons marks you as a target, and gradually sinks your charity of grace into the mire, but not before the oriental rose calls out your name, ghost appearing on your sleeve, softly charting music on a windy slanting road.