I keep my broken teeth
in tiny velvet bags,
never to be seen
nor judged by scarlet eyes.

Haemolacrial purges of
my deepest secrets
have splattered over
these fabric coffins,
leaving irremovable stains
on their delicate lacings.

I tie their ribbons together,
then slowly stitch them
over my gaping wounds,
finding solace in the company
of rusting needles.

Silence and scartissue
grow over and upon me,
and my eyes are sealed shut
by this vicious fungus.

I wish I could just open
these fragile caskets
and let the scarabs inside
devour my disease.

If only I could tip over
these delicately patterned vaults
and re-attach my shattered teeth;
Then no silence could erode me,
nor scartissue devour me.

I would remove these ribbons
from around my trachea
and take my very first breath,
my very first step into the unknown
realm of joy and passion.

But I am paralyzed.
I remain here in a cage of velvet,
masticating my ravaged wings
with broken teeth.