She skirts the skin- settles onto your bones: a second epidermis
Fashion to be layered
And made opportune for you to digress
A drivel drama, a novel thought
The hollow in your chest barely concealed
But it is the hollow beneath your eyes that begs to suggest
Mind so young, brain plasticity learned to eat until you ungrew
Swelling into straight lines that nature never knew
A white shadow made of tailored cross
stitches rolling out tapered runs on linen squares
Forget the abyss, stare into her vanilla for that is where she tucks her truths, waiting for someone else to
seek them out to share
-Cheveux