(notice
me...)

Buried beneath
second-hand rags,
a cherub poses
(Before) a mirror,
her tears invisible
to the naked (I).
She sees her future
en(Close)d in a
gash, her fate fore-
told within (the)
yellow-blueness
of her wounds.
Gingerly, she lowers
the (Shutters.),
lights a candle
and melts herself
into an ocean of
cool, blue wax.

Aimee
-------
Reminds me of a piece I once wrote, ending with the line "Bury Me In A Wall Of Sound," but this is too lyrical and beautiful to ever be confused with my stuff. bp.