she dances like a careless feather
in the midst of a hurricane,
covered in glitter
and bursting with rage;
her teal nails scratch the sun
and leave it bleeding
with light
above the desert's lungs;
this little black dove
thrives on the freedom
of a valley with no gods;
my damaged queen,
come back to sanity!
why lose your mind in the sunset
and your body to to a ghost
of sapphirine mist?
oh,but the night is stark,
while her dress can't hide
the amethyst growing on the flesh
of her thighs...
she dances like no one is there,
not even the rain,
not even herself.
she dances.
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