Darker Hearts
P Patti Masterman
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Death chooses grey roses,
Because living lips are lily pink;
In each clever hand, his dagger arcs
The blood falling like broken links.
A tethered breast, a cottoned night;
The devil dreams of good nymphs sleeping.
The outside draws the inside nigh;
Dark beasts, the brass keys quiet are keeping.
In the flowers center, soft fingers enter,
Summer breathing the cloud-juice dry,
And jaded hearts will keep on beating
Though bloody cracks expand the sky.
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