A seasonal weaver of introspective magnetism,
She wraps her curiosity around the moonbeams;
With negative imprints, she blends the parade of colours,
The spectrum collides in mercury lined tiptoes,
Washing away the clouded angel-dust;
Cursing each fallen raindrop,
She patterns the crystal sky with a nebulous shade.
She blossoms in her malevolent blooming,
The dark caresses thy crevices creating a new forlorn macabre;
Building an unraveled spirit,
The floral falls;
Shimmering an oasis of hope into her vivifical beauty.
Her shadow consumes the evidence,
Mesmerizing the brilliance in a gentle whisper;
The circles radiate in a hazy gloom,
Transcending miracles through invasive waltzes,
Leading each butterfly kiss to an anchored garden of majesty;
Breaking in the mold of desperation,
She breaths a sigh of relief.
The flowers dance,
Encircling her aura,
Driving in a sacred ballet,
They weave;
Turning, flowing with a sweet decadence;
Petals upon petals;
With blankets of scarlet,
They lay, a patter of dreamscape,
Entrancing the world with a perfume of wonder.
While sirens defend her spirit,
Angels smile with discontent,
Aching to feel her beauty unravel upon the world again;
Thy vacant dreams consume thee,
With an unearthly power, she falls,
Releasing all vengeance upon her midnight figure,
Her own fairytale left to feed upon the tale of the graveyard.
©Ashley Leslie 2013
