Your skin sinks into my body as a burden, clandestine,
Irresistable clutter. Our secrecy that we malnourished,
Gallivanting cheerfully. The suggestive triangle cramps.
The guilt without its attractiveness, the more we built it with
Glue the less it would hold. A forlorn idea turned silent, to behold.
The archive of our failures. The lost adoration deteriorated in front
Of our very own eyes.
“The Awakening” by Solomon Joseph Solomon (1860-1927)
Croque-Melpomene 