Her face was peppered with white powder,
The prouder part of her slender frame
Lay still, a weary head on a pillow
By an open window four floors away.
Eyes of glass catch hazed reflections
From the direction of London lamps
Lighting themselves one by one,
But she does not smile at their amber gleam
Whilst the seams of her soul come undone.

Vague melt solidifies natures crime scene.
Unh...

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The breath had left her, not long ago.
Her face, pressed into the pillow
Drained black tears onto white linen.
Her fight had been lost; the long battle had ravaged her
And her iconic war paint scrawled ironic defeat in tracks
Down her pale skin onto paler sheets.

A motionless husk; as she lays there;
Her raven hair, unravelled from familiarity,
Fall's delicately on her back,
...

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With my acuminous arm
I saved her wretched soul, like the others,
I drew the blood through clotted veins
And lay her down upon the blackness.

I cleaved the meats from her ivory.
He knelt with me and watched her filth, her poison
Pour through the cobbled streets
Into welcoming drains.

Plucked from the cadaver,
Her vessels of virility are no more;
The erroneous allocatio...

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