iii. LA DOULEUR EXQUISE

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by mafloys

by mafloys

                                    
                                              LA DOULEUR EXQUISE
                          she is butterscotch hair that you will let pool like a molten nectar in the cavernous hollows of your collarbones as her tears trickle into your skin forming constellations on an empty palimpsest. 
                          she is honey sunlight oozing from the basin of the candy floss sky through fluttering, ghoulish linen curtains, carnation cheeks stained with salt. 

                          she is playing in the ennui streams leaking through the creaking floorboards of her home in your heart, muttering with languor-glazed lips, 'there are pieces of me scattered in the wondrous arteries of your heart, nestled in the folds of beating muscle, take heed, for that is their home.' 
                          she is your perennial feeling of words left unsaid, la douleur exquise