ImaginationMenagerie

Pretty boy, With golden eyes, Keeps fallen stars And beautiful words Inside of glass bottles. He hangs these Lost eternities, Unmade wishes, From the ceiling, on Ropes Twisted into nooses. A menagerie Of tears Made from silver and gold, Joy and sorrow, Crowd littered corners in their jars, Gathering merciful dusts. Black cat takes a photograph Of another life to live, Crossing the paths of Mortals, Adding their years to his collection. Pretty boy, With golden eyes, Sleeps near his treasures In shadowed, High places, Protecting his stolen ages. Decades pass In his ninety-nine Generations; He grows younger And wis