By Violet Tendancies
Date: 10 July 2000
INVIOLETTA
The lines that make you up are parallel; they'll
never meet; you whisper through them
like breath through parted teeth;Invioletta,
you are pure,Invioletta.
Your hair is a mist that shrouds you; it floats
behind you like a breeze it strokes your
cheek and wafts away, Invioletta,
and you are gone,Invioletta.
The suns of your face are pale; their rays sink
into your skin, you think I can't see you fling a spark
and toss your head; Invioletta,
but you're wrong,Invioletta.
The way you cross your legs with such terrible
finality, you'd think there was no rift
between, nothing to violate, nowhere to go,
Invioletta, but you lie;
Invioletta.
Back to the Heart-on-Sleeve Corner