Fire Child

The rich velvet lining of the mouth,
blood stained, seething,
The thought-count, brooding,
inwards.

Fortune lay scattered
In broken diamond-crush stars
Scratching across the blue-dye sea.

The green swirl bubbled out,
Frothy and restless,
Like the liquid heart,
And its ruby blood droplets.

The globules of sea-darkening weed
Seeping into the mind.
With no response,
Only cradle sickness.

The memory of experience
lead -heavy,
Sears a sharp-white hole,
Where there were once only empty spaces.

Sculptured tears now scorch the skin,
Leaving their glacial remains,
Falling in crystal beauty.