Pixie

Young unicorns

Snatched from the impossible skies

Precious horns, ordinary chainsaws

I am left with horses revolting

In the normalcy shipwrecked

By a face all sweet and empty

Like a hollow candy or an ice cream

Smile licked down to a cigarette

I promptly extinguished in a dead infection

A desk drawer full of blurry sunflowers

Under your bare feet are only symptomatic

Of the monster I have become