The stare

The lids 
are peeled back
revealing  a cool winter.

                                            They glare lid-full.
                                                      with disdain.

A ragweed dagger with  a loathsome appetite
that never ever  rests. 

Behind the dark door
lies a black  mass full of suffocating worlds. 

That is  filled 

with
the space between words
that
With 
a wet kiss of lavender

 is slowly roatating folds
                        Between 

the soft holds
                              That
linger far  too often.
And yet
             Kills
In soft thrills.

upon a silk thread
Liquid in high pitch.

They scream silently

as she points out the corpse.

adh 2015