She was a Frail little fool

And every time the damned weather played,

It plucked a scarlet fibre from her pallid frame.

Her eyes would sink deep into her puny cheeks,

And her limpid palms would lose some fine lines,

But, like she always believed,

  -the more you desiccate, more visible you were to the world.

 

 

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Between you and me

And when you breath(if you)

they tamper with your soul,

slither in your creed- like a nemesis burning your margins.

Shunning your parish, you groan-

gospels in his teeth.

Craving to bleed.