Faux

"Clone,
caught hold of your flood lung,
harbour your ‘someone',
prevent me.

Shown,
you swoon in your lace run,
brooding, a quilt tongue,
pining me.

Calm, 
clot, cold, and bleed

Bone,
pull over your midriff,
labour your inches,
widow me.

Hone,
all crimson and hinges,
tarot and itches,
corner me.

Faux 
shot, sold and bleed

Cower all your cinders, fake us
bower in your shivers, shake us"

-Novo Amor