Expelled that night from crimson lips
ashen ghosts lounge in slumber
smoky tendrils aloft midnight garb
they stir, and dance, and wander,
creeping cancerous in whispering ships
curling down corridors to greet the lungs,
I inhale her deathly perfume kiss.
Transfixed, I drink her in again,
a canopy of obsidian strands
frames her pallid icy skin,
layered thick with paint
(her face just another canvass for
gifted hands to recreate)
I would suck toxins from her tongue
if I could peel it all away
and bathe in her unadorned mind.