There is a bowl of fruit on the table
A mask on the chair
Fireworks in the distance
And love--
In the shadows the candles make on the floor
Like hands and bodies
Darkness and light mingle
melting the cracked surface of the walls
Tumbling over the gilded frames, painted faces,
Flesh and Fabric
They are violent lovers these two -
For the joy of one is the death of the other.
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