As honey drips, drips, drips on scars,
Lush satin embalms the raw pink seams
Budding from moisture and the marred.
Shuttering, hallowed out faces,
Through xylem, exoskeletal rain,
Blankets blooming from oil,
Shrouding the skin with pain.
Tunnels, limestone unlit,
With torches to tell the time,
And petals, stiff with the blessing of tar,
Once flush with color and brine.
All stops, emblaze, the beats emanate
From the rose embalmed and soul innate.
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