Fuse

In the dusted over mirror
She is a static blur.
My darling, I cannot see
In the dusted over mirror
She is a static blur.
My darling, I cannot see

The scissor silhouette
she has artfully become.
How ghastly:
Drawn like
charcoal and caves.

Who made this?
This perfection?
Is this perfection?
Never has deception
been so powerfully
wrong.

Sick to the bone,
and addicted,
the pulse of her
musical blood in her ears -
my darling, you
can hold me in that gaze;
I am never close enough.

Tunefully.
Gracefully.
Hopelessly
I can regain
Another time.

The dusted over mirror,
Beheld by only the eyes
of this cold,
hungry,
princess.

LDeM

Fuse

LuciaDeMure

St. Albans, United Kingdom

  • Artist
    Notes

Artist's Description

Taking risks
can be deadly…

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