The third delirium

Rime held me, his kiss in me chested
as he lit his last cigarette
Near a strange place where I rested
a top the cement wall vignette

The lemon tree, I stole from my Vinaigrette
The few green lemon cymes in my hand
The coil sound played by a dreary clarinette
And the Cement wall crested with sand

I was about to cry for an instance but I didn’t.
My tears have no meaning when they clutter
And my mouth and lips lost the wine color
I was about to cry for an instance but I couldn’t

The last spark gone out of the cigarette
Rime cried frozen whispers of a song amid
His long kiss on the mouth of a marionette

"beautiful lets freeze your lips of red"

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