Author Information
Moths
Folder:
Main Work
Late night lights hover
Glittering over rivers
Of forbidden wine—
Tasteless and tactless from talented lips,
Drunk on rumors and sparkles
And hazy smiles across the table.
The doors bear porcelain figurines
Newly constructed from perfect dreams
Idols for employment with lying eyes
Covered in thrilling white,
Spinning beautiful lives
Of threadbare truths;
Granting smiles that will be out of style
Come evening’s end
Cast aside with a solemn sigh.
White skirts are security,
The masks of the shining age;
Like children, pulling on the costumes
That don’t fit,
They’re the rich beautiful envied
Flashy fabulous fairies
That have no meaning
When the lights go out
