Tis’ no Claudia, nor an Esmalia but it tis’ in fact a Clarissa;
The ache of heartache to breathing of breath,
Fatal,
Forgiveness,
For I am not, I am.
This is not true.
True this is not.
This is not true.
True this is knot.
Break
Break
Brake
Brake
Elastically unstable,
I’m still breaking, falling apart.
Shattering but more or less elegantly,
Physically as well as fatally attracted
To the idea of eternity.
I am no vixen.
I am no centerpiece.
I am…
I am nothing.
Nothing you need anyhow.
Gracefully I am torn,
Feathers float,
For I am no "Fallen Angel,"
This place is his and only his.
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