When eyes
Change galaxies,
I shall treasure the marks
Upon your buried lips
Inside of your skull,
Outside of the grounds,
For there is a statue raised
Marked with all the waters
I have come to dine on,
With faces meeting faces,
With shoulders finding graces.

Love is the cruelest design
Where I find safety
Of you, to be mine,
Under the Earth,
Solid and confined
Of us,
Disused and tormented
In saddest rust.

The form,
What a shape
Where blood is there
To be scraped
From eyes, where bled the blackest
Of miserable blues.
Find me,
Oh, woman of the sudden night,
As this statue is laid down
To find the sun

Curling against the swirling voids,
Centered in your frozen heart.

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