Madame X

Skin so full of light, such wild white
held aloft by fields of black
and pressed into the earth by skies of beige,
One hand, pressure on the table,
a lonely fingernail, one glaring sideways eye,
a gentle cut of red into your face, half-lipped,
orifice and soft pink shell of funneled sound,
one dark pervasive nostril:
doorway to the arrogantly facing mind:

They are, and they are loveliness
and sharp, it's sure the
teeth and wit are too.

Tell me: "Do diamonds strike the suitors blind?"

Tell me: "Are they swallowed by the dark heart on your breast?"

Tell me: "Did they write their lives to you?"

Please, I beg it, tell me what is true.

Silence, she has gone to rest.
All that's left are blandly colored walls
and the unseen one who desperately loves.