I fall to pieces in the sweetest way possible.
The silence encompasses all melodies to my saline solicitude.
The calm a still lake swallowing all sound.
Mist, white like lilies, rising from the surface, hiding the imperfect.
White like lilies, white like snow.
Sweet like melancholy, bitter like nostalgia.
The fog lulls me in, tickling my skin, holding me in its embrace.
The light fades as I plunge into the deeply tainted silk.
Layer after layer, carmine fades to byzantium to smoke
Blotched by ink, heavy as my heart, lazily, slowly sinking