Memories, velvet soft,

Fall from my lips,

In the dead of night,

Skin of ice

Under that bed,

Such remnants

Are my feathers,

Seabed frozen over,

Where nothing more resides,

But the tears of time,

All wrapped up tight,

The only warmth

Is flowing out,

As memories,

They leave me still;

The only things

That remain

In an emerald-diamond shell

Are images, rushing,

Before my eyes,

The teardrop memories,

Lost in spite:

When I am gone,

No breeze to touch

Such painted lips,

Mesmer’sing eyes

Undone, unmarked,

Glassy pools,

No darker water than

The frozen over;

At the end,

Those slipped out things,

Past presented on

Future’s wings,

Cradle of the

Damnèd life,

The memories

With their entice.

The End

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