under the sun
and moon
i fade
like an aging fabric
my purple
is a tarnished mirror
where only shades
of grey reside
fragile
on my walk between
thought
and a curse
of scorn
i am a distilled perfume
made of flattened flowers
fermenting
nights of breathless
have long since passed
yet
the sea still cradles
slender bodied waves
to the shores
i am an aggregate
of life
tumbling
but
when death comes to me
that lady
will raise her glass
under the sun
or moon
and become
intoxicated
in shades
of purple




14 old applause
