In my mirror
the shade is sitting...
and velvet...
the face is pale
as fog...slave...
Steps of rain and mud
from that glass window
the moon sleeps among the branches
...the gray dyes
the tempest into my womb.
In my mirror
the shade is sitting...
and velvet...
the face is pale
as fog...slave...
Steps of rain and mud
from that glass window
the moon sleeps among the branches
...the gray dyes
the tempest into my womb.