Outside The Window It's Gone Now

In the purple bed room I have painted, Long ago, but now smell's of. That deep musky scent that won't wash out, That has produced, a single child. Even when I grew to tired and weak, I would go on. Even when asleep I hear her thought's, By living only once, she never slept. A pink and white mushroom, pouting it stood out by her red lips. The purple drapes would move, Inside the room, I couldn't see because. And then, just like that, her ship came in, Once outside the room I knew. I could feel that I had lost a mouth once Warm, but could not talk.