My tears become a carpet of unending dolor, lingering in the corners of my mind.  My thoughts fill with cherry red contrasting hopes, ones that tighten the white dream, you missing my touch, my hot breathe, our contingency.

Would it be a subtle move to play the melody that clumps between the slices of sunrise and sunset? The melody that roared in our hearts when we came together in the sheets? A pulse that plucked a chime of lovers collided.

And to think those crafted fingers, the ones that kept my palms warm in October airs, were covered with cancer. Cancered from the creamy blood of gentle hearts. Their deaths you feed, on the strife, a never ending need.

Your skin was the fragilest of ivory, but deep down underneath the layers of it, Crawl the nastiest of secrets, of which I wish I had knowledge of from the start.

I would have never been a conquest, but just a women floating along a path of genius.