honeymouth (honeymouth) wrote,
honeymouth
honeymouth

knight

her heart is tribal
beating sad songs of violet nights
the paint on her fingers
glowing like madmen
afraid of their own shadows.
whispers softly echo
what the rattling of bones
dare not speak.
too courageous for their cowardice,
the lioness, the princess, the prowess
enraptured in her mind's eye.
tattoos of summer sun
the ink of the indian holiday
i can no longer tell them apart.
moods of my forgotten love,
lost in the waves of season
trapped beneath ice shields.
the frozen knight,
he is wasted in the frosted light.
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