He blends pastel pigments
into carbonaceous colors.
Her eyes,
expectantly extracting
evidence of emotion.
She feels
like six hours before morning;
handcuffed in hues
of forgotten flowers
and far-off seasons.
His mouth,
muting moments
of monogamy.
And so,
he alters affinity
into libidinal leisures.
Her ardor,
perishing beneath
a nacreous arch.
She died to nothing
but female hedonism.

) the last lines were perfectly fitting for the ending 




Hetohke'e *







9 old applause
