nocturne {iii} ~the fragility of filipendulous moments when running with scissors

strung the darkest pieces
of myself on frayed thread,
pick-stitching the seam of
your lips in sienna
to stop moth orchids
bleeding from your tongue ~
.. they bloomed in
the back of your throat
amid rose quartz & rock
{tender fuchsia fleetings
in a flesh terrarium}
flimsy stems slinking
into soft tissue, clinging
as i did once ...
*
furtive sacraments swung
like fairy lights, spun
into your sable hair
so treacherous & still ...
... i trusted you to stow
the shiraz stained slivers
beneath your chest
like sea glass treasures
reflecting every fuck
i pretended not to give
//