sorrowless loss of life

Crowds sway on canary yellow dance floors of moonlight Grins

cost nothing They create their own currency of sugar skulls and

velvet curtains Angels buttered onto lawn chairs Tinkering with

martini glasses laced between ghostly pale fingertips Whisper

between sips Just keep dancing No one was sued for a tango

Families of cheshire's grin glow live in houses made of star nectar

They live their sun honey lives without any sticky lips or fingertips

Black is not apart of their vocabulary I live in a nook of soot Webs

of salty tears Trace poems through cheekbones caked in dark

matter Always dizzy from spinning holes threatening lives better

lived One finger clings onto the rim I like to watch it slip

Barrenness is where my angels lie In beds wrapped in butterfly

wings I itch to fall into fatal Cuddle with the smell of baking apple

pie that thrives in the desolate Death does not in fact equate

sorrow I yearn for Departure from the viewing of others sun honey

lives Ecstatic discovery of what it means to rest in joy An

orchestra of fireflies kissing my heart strings Timeless existence of

rosemary sealed door frames Hands wiping away tears for

something other than lonely Everyone's invited There's only one

finger still slipping

Words by Mira.