Winter morning

The sky is the colour of the
Eyes that kill;
That icy, pearly blue
Pale, shrinking death
Shredding your cheeks
With harmonic tremor
And glances of spite
Poisonous venom bite
Amidst horned crowns
of black, crow-like night

Oozing from your grave
To your bed;
A bedspread of forbidden fingers
And fear;
Where sunlight shines the most
And reveals the least;
Your eyes.
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