Song of Amber

Sequestered beneath the vortex is my mind
The mass of emotion, the knowing of you.
Your arrival unseen.

Destitute as my temptress
You come by way of carriage or match stick box
A traveler or some cynical thing.

I have known you once
Or some repose of your presence
Some mannequin displaced on window sills
Fully clad in the colors of my adoration

Hallelujah, in your scars I find purity
Your broken ambiance, my serrated soul...
Pitifully pieced together.

We finger travesty
As we sift through empty promises
And dry our hands of love all together.