This Daylights Love

Alone with her loneliness, she'd placed In a darkened segmented basement: Under her eyelids her impassionate prey. Was had she not grown quite nauseate Of being a moth beneath iron grates: She'd long given up on bat-like wings. But for her insular lusts of blood l tasted. She'd have 'Love' stoppered affordably bottled. Poured from the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. There her personifications of a nude fresco Lecherously, joining us in this vampirism: Would buttress against us her kissing. Sleepovers in a velvet casket of stars With her needs ancient as a pagan forest. That longs for the starlight's faucet fix. So her emotionalism's tap' runneth over As she reaches up from her foundation's root: Night butterflies fly-out: This daylights love This daylights-newly, amalgamated lover.