Dark iridescent peacock feathers and strands of pearls

Were woven into her crimson cascade, like the storyteller

Sewed faery eyes and butterflies into children’s dreams.

Metaphors riddled her curved back; tattoos.

Needles wove ink into her alabaster skin. The storyteller

Pinned up her hair and donned a gilt masque

That bled metaphors; riddled rivers encrusted into tattoos,

Nightmares kissed into the bones of her neck.

Pins pierce her scalp and she dawned at golden midnight,

Upon opening her mouth, she spills lies onto her ivory bosom,

The dreamers still kiss shadows dissolved into her throat,

She gasped, thought revealed. Evening eyes scurrying to hide

the mess.

Upon parting her lips, Pandora vomited sin into their ivory

hearts

Until they burned behind the brocade, bludgeoned the ribcage.

She swallowed, desperate, starry onyx orbs widening at the

danger inside.

Her rose-velvet tongue tasting the truth that had risen like bile.

It burned behind the silk flesh of her neck, corroded all the way

back down.

Sin stitched luminous eyes and crow calls into the audience,

Her rose-red tongue rhyming contagion and oblivion into

newly-dreamed truth.

Until iridescent Angels descended and slew her; slashed strands

of pearls once lied together.