"swathe me my love" a Cinquain Garland #46

My heart,
lays sifting strewn,
my heartaches, laid out doom,
surreal is the fantasy light,
to plume.

Upon,
life in feathers,
to tickle my bitter,
toasted sugar nut crusted tear,
that bled.

Sheer aged,
sweet like your eyes,
intertwines does not part,
bleeding from my heart unto sighs,
of breadth.

Your touch,
of my essence,
my rebirth of life such,
laid onto me your soul so deep,
heaven.

Swathe me,
my love for I,
am bleeding for you to,
covet what has remained silent,
to keep.

My heart,
life in feathers,
intertwines does not part,
laid onto me your soul so deep,
to keep.