Lace Lattice

Bliss pouted by my cheek in a dream about kissing isolation with a tear streak. They collect in the recesses of those gaunt, starved, meek weakling cheeks that adorn her face like a lattice of thin lace. A smile like a virgin birth. Purity that's heaven sent. A scentless plume in her room. Death looms. They collect in the recesses of those gaunt, starved, meek weakling cheeks that adorn her face like a lattice of thin lace.