surrounded by mirrors

I met Art

She's elegant

wants to be tamed

but is of the wild and rather instinctual

Her house if of Gertrude Stein's descent

although she does not know of Miss Stein

Hands wrinkled with galloped age

keep her trapped inside other people's minds

Perfection she craves because of

facticious thoughts of past conceptions

Passion encapsulates her

but she does not know what for

So death comes knocking

He's sweeter than the past

but his hands upon her breasts

do not carry the same hellacious addictions

They dance naked together on her cold wooden floor

to the repetition of her thoughts

surrounded by mirrors

holding memories of happier times

written by Caleb Sarvis

Photos by Joseph Boyle

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