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