un-ending slumber infuse her living days, reality never ceasing

her wonderous dreams. how to make her come alive?

maybe a sweet kiss would finally do the trick,

like in mere fairytales. may love be the key to unlocking

her sanity. but she is too full of her own reveries to

open her heart to anything else.

staring out over horizons, watching auroras evelop the awakening world

glimpsing the dawn as the moon arises up, the world finally asleep.

phony dawn, sealed in daydreams. gazing at the sun through the moon,

but dear, dawn comes before sunrise. you will never see it

during midnight.

she'd rather walk in streets, eyes closed, than open;

i. lie in fields of wild dandelions than sunflowers; so she can wish on their seeds, scattering them deep into the earth

ii. catch the ends of provisional rainbows than admiring them from a window sill; hopefully she'll unearth pots of her strayed senses

iii. toss silver dimes into bottoms of fountains than saving copper pennies; her dimes carry segments of her whispering hopes, drowning them in wavering trickles

iv. count shooting stars than gaze at the full moon; maybe if she hopes on enough stars, the sky will finally discern her

now, to say all that was delusional, she would pity

my ignorance. to strip all that away, she would no longer

have a beating heart. she lives to illusions, vicious.

aurora.

diaphonous feathers of watery beads ascend from the earth;

rising heavily. they whirl into the sun's realm as she sits on her throne.

her polished fiery gold crown, twinkling in sparks of honey, glow

rings of waters rest her in their presence, her burning hands resting among

their cooled backs. screams of whimpering pain strum their numb vocal chords,

cries only their heart can hear. after all, they are mere vibrations.

she presses harder, and they groan in despair, drips

of sweet sweat, slip off their necks; carrying the weight of themselves

and her. the sky bystands close by, helplessly blanketing the Sun as she

drapes over the ignorant world. Of course they

don't see their pain, because in the end

she's the queen. no matter how mystical the clouds are, nor

how alluring the royal blue's sky is, she's the sun, the adored star,

the everything

this world depends on.

but today was different, the clouds guzzled the sun

engulfing her beautiful rays in their tiny stomachs. it scorches

their cramped intenstines, burning. but they hold it in, stretching their backs

their united cracks of each bone feel so satisfying. they devour

the once-blue sky, for not alleviating them, when they needed it most,

in their mouths. plunging it down their throat, it suffocates them

but they stow it away.

today, I finally saw the clouds swell to where one's eye could reach.

their each wave caught hearts; they're silvery shade, mesmerizing.

of course, I know, the day'll come and the Sun and sky will rule

above again, but for this breath,

I will dance under threads of water instead of sunlight,

because they swallowed her.

demolished glass pieces of broken sculptures

scattered in your wooden crates

amass by rusted spades, melted to

liquified clumps of fragments

slits of dried crimsom blood, tattooes

your burnt skin, charred crow marks

lash against your fair cheeks

scorched in this process, yet you blow

oxygen swirls inside walls of your swollen cheeks

lungs nudges against your ribcages

prickling stings of pain

taunt with its slithering tongue

crystalline glass flecked with

mosaiced marbles of scars and flesh

colored with drips of scarlet beads

salty gems of sweat, dyed

pinched tweezers snip away disfiguremnet

sculpting unvarnished into polished

glass carvings, but to drop it, it'll fracture back to pieces

like it never came to be before.