Untitled

You've got a bit of pain painted on your face.

The truth is in wine!

She is her wrist.

 

Acta santorum...

She prayed to believe.

 

Take a mandrake root,

crush into powder.

The cocaine in her mind,

lingering, still.

Measure the belladonna,

add to the mix.

Carmine in colour,

the bits of pomegranate.

White petaled rose,

snow in nature.

A single feather

coloured with rust,

with a dash of Valerian-

Author's Note

author's note: Feel free to interpret in any way you wish. I will be presenting this to my class on Monday, and was hoping to get feedback from others beforehand.