Her Mortal Remains

With a fine womanliness she dances
across the fracture that runs down my eye,

her quiet beauty is legendary,
a blustery wind like a definite sigh,

and I slip into her mortal remains,
gather up all wild symbolic ash,

tonight it is me who will curtsy
as she wanders the plains of these pains.

As sick as inanimate romance,
I spill flowers from a delicate sky,

and guitars pluck this spirit from the flash
of bright light that drives me insane.

I'm a relic inside a decayed town,
the gutters capture me facedown,
stars burst along her sensual frown
and I think it's time to drown...

...in her vision which bubbles with anger,
in the derelict frame that'll never give closure.