"queen"
her tongue rolls and i am left with a
lullaby. though
i saw the poison on her lips and i
touched her.
the pressure of my fingers created
a vastness rather, a
sorrow.
the truest confession? i am her
slave. my heart is spring flowers
and her body is the
winter.
our smiles were exchanged in slow motion; i had been
captivated by the isolation of
lightness. the rest was as cold and inviting
as a first snow;
we became the footprints we had left behind.
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