Her face opened

In a shudder of birds

Marble mouthed

And reclined in passion

But the strings that wreath her walk

Could wrap me into thunder


The scent of coffee

Cold floors and candles

A white semi spiral staircase

Uncurled into the room

The downstairs, the doorways

Spring in bloom.


Footsteps like raindrops

On an outstretched palm,

Damp smoke eyes,

 blue charm.





  • Styled by

    Francesca Matteucci


    Vittoria Fenicia

    Make-Up Artist

    Kryolan Roma

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