I pick apart the pages,
Our love’s last lingering thought;
A moment of violence,
And a circulating rush of blood.
The ink bleeds deeply into flesh,
We reminisce for our part and parcel.
An illuminated biography,
Swells with the moist hint of rain,
As our perceptions
Schism, and the realistic parts of me
Begin to wax and wane.
Hi hats charm the serpent.
And as contagious as a Winter’s snow,
I blanket you.