Constellations Laced with Pearls

The metal melts through to my skin Tying together the structure of my bones in contorted constellations like grape vines around a despondent neck While the strands of my hair evaporate into spirited bubbles That evanescently cling to the fabric of my curtains; I fumble through a sigh As a cloud of slate drizzles a heavy mist over my ears, And all that I am left with Is shredded fragments of my essence That cling to the skin of my sore lobes And drip lazily onto my fingers, Preserving them in oil; They intertwine themselves with my veins and knuckles, Gradually blooming as red tulips above my head And beneath the whites of my eyes; They flow out of my nostrils And smell of perfume; The kind that settles on your temple in tides of spring And lies there indolently Awaiting loneliness; But let them pass, They are but shadows of my past Strangers to the shell Companions to the nacre; The nacre that now surrounds the shell I never knew to be mine;

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