Swirling
moon drops
of opalescent delight
pulse over flesh
keeping time with my lovesick sonata.
The Tourmaline embers,
a delicacy of desire,
watching like a sultan
over riches hoarded.
My ligaments ensnared,
frozen in Angelite,
a laughing madame
never satiated,
ever wanting for more.
Begging to be stripped
of pungency,
the Lemon Chrysoprase
rolls between puckered lips,
an appeasement
for my childlike tantrums.
Perched amidst the quarry
is a rising Sunstone
melting Obsidian
into metallic tears,
moistening my breasts,
a stream of conscious obsession.
Jet lies among these
sinister as a starless night,
a cavern
of selfish reminders,
restitution that someday must come.
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