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milk drips from her eyelids and she's drinking in ecstasy throat choking on the white satin that jewels the patch of skin she asked for a kiss. she was gifted with a prison cage.
her cheek was wet with tears but now it's dry, didn't you know? that cold milk harmonises the sting of flames courted by the eyes, it dies and it cries and it dies in vulgar vows of a vindictive villain, that tosses and turns in the middle of her summertime sadness.
her fingers are sliding through moisture and the tips are stained, but it's her lips that are branded in violent beds of roses.
she blinks, she basks in sunlight as her cut glass happiness, crust is glued to her lashes, lethargy begs for blood-spilt roses yet there's a paintbrush caressing her face dipped in a water lily's funeral daze, the tear that cuts at her face instigating a fresh wave of milk pouring from her eyes yet there's blood spilling from her mouth and she's blind and she's mute.
