The skin is as cold as milk curdled to cream in the winter
The porcelain is pristine as fine china, a doll of china
Easily shattered in the beauty of fragility.
The Sakura petals dance around you
Endow you in their grace;
perfection is a paradox
like a mole or a scar
victorian necessity with the roots
of french mistresses.
We are whole when we are together
though we do not opposed quite’
As what I lack she bestows as a gift to the windows of soul.
With such elysium in the night.
The dragon is a riot - alarmingly tragically comedic
The soul emits from the smoke
Hermaphroditic and fay
Mysticism knows no boundary
A thread of fate spills ou