The man that looked at the purple sky.

And not the purple prince combs his hands around the girl

The girl shivers and desperately hugs at his crimson eyes that

Look towards the sky.

She wants him to smile

For his lips to part and breathe

Breathe all over her

But he lets his air filter onto windows while he watches the world go by.

And looks towards the sky.

She wants him to stare at her

But she knows if this happened her shivers would be too much

And she would be trapped like she was before. 

Under the electric cellophane.

So instead she watches him. Stares at him

But even at this she hears the cellophane creep behind her back

The electricity pouring over her like a desert bath. Necessary, cleansing.

But too hot.

So. no staring. No watching

Too dangerous as he saunters and blows down her throat whisky kisses.

A black panther in red cords.

Blocked off senses aren’t enough

He’s a musician. Chords are his poison and her ears cannot be filled.

She goes to an apothecary in order to drink up, drink down, drink through

She cannot be alive while the panther roams.

It would be a life to good.

To good

To good

on the edge of insanity.

The poison touches her bosoms and she is eaten up

In her last moments she hears his music

 her body shivers for the last time.

Dancing to his rhythm on a purple cloud.

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