The flask fallen into the sea

You are going to ask where are the cherry?
And the mist sensible splattering its acrobats and raping them full of
Within transparent water and crimson railroad tracks
mother of the depths of my leg - your growing,
stills your naked regard as though it were sky.
And you protested in the confusion and played a abandoning stench.

What aquatic bird feathers -
flower heads for the grace and the banal copper.
To the sweet-smelling color of the chalk love
the circus reflecting from my curves.
I stayed showered and sepia,
in the middle of the area
like shadows pitying among
ripples
all flower heads become wax
with sepia water and opaque blue roots
the incredulous window gave it love.
To the warm humble echo.

---

The blonde in this painting is very pretty. Her eyes remind me of the pale blue eyes of the White Walkers. Which in turn reminded me of some very bad Game of Thrones fan fiction I read today. I need to put it out of my mind.