If I could write a letter
in any single motion
I would want it to walk near;
to so delicately move you.
To scribe such a completion
well, what a miracle be!
For I am of much lesser things
than one may think of me.
Built in flesh, embodied.
silk, soft to the touch.
Delicate as the wishing flower,
harsh as mouth's word, love.
Wishing to morph in silence,
become a frail being.
Minding the rules bring weary a cost;
yet shine light to what I am leaving.
Border me, embroider.
Charge me all you stare,
but I will make a pretty penny
on the cloak of hearts you wear.
Making mocking, mind me?
Set across a throne.
Larger is the topper I wear
than your jaded bones.
Take me now to nowhere,
I want to meet you still.
Sit pretty for me, just that way
across my windows sill.
I will drink you as a flower,
until the frost nights kill.
Leaving you to nothing,
but your soul, at my will.
