She comes in spades
They whittle roses in the shape
Of her face
Photographic flowers
A picture of trees
Origami sunset
Ripples on the dead leaves
The dead ones
They're fallen and brittle
She comes in spades
Her footfalls falling as I knew they would
Ah, doesn't matter
My skull is a womb of petrified flesh
Does it shatter
When her foot falls?
Flashing a shutter
And strips a dimension
The fragile reception
The cardboard comrades guard the gate
Crimson, Veridian, Indigo
Crimson, Veridian, Indigo