• Vol. 01
  • Chapter 08
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Midnight mourning

The clock fell, turning time
bursting pearls from her throat
releasing bubbles.

Forcing the elephant to leave
his trunk and write the words
orange and lemon must dwell apart.

The black bruise of tulip waits on the
candle's bleed, the crimson stain of
curtain hangs on the missing hour.

A tiny ghost sits waiting for morning.