She was the neck that held a fountain of youth
A nightmare pondering and forging
Leftover
weaknesses
Preparing outbursts of disobedience
and childish complaints.
She was my lover,
Sheer and soft
Skin churned from the finest cream
and warmed only by the purest of stars.
She was a stone.
A smooth rock in
Her
untouchable fantasy tree.
A light.
Alas
[and] she disappeared.
Slipped silently into the sea.
A trace of that fruit
Lost
Left to be churned again
and again
Until its grains
blended
Uniform into
“just another.”
- Grace
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