a passage of glitter awakened by her breathe folds through a prism on crystal dust skin. the days out play her with careening lashes of slow rhythms, they gloss with violet lashes and grow forgetful in corners, grow ancient beneath a soil of stone and lose their heavenly stretch before a moonless sky. under the hills lies something she lost, muted earth shrouds a sepulcher like an ivied lung, across the air a song is sent to die from regretful tongues, her nails tawdry from dirt strewn wind. across the horizon a phantom emerges, a blur of black heat bobbling with daze, it comes to heed the call of the voiceless, and mark their place in the house of swords, with her name etched in a sinking ink she grows cold beneath the sun.