Black ink and sunbeams poetry

Twice spoken,
the polysyllabic
herald of solitude,
drives forth
the silence

Queen of hearts,
having played your hand,
fold yourself back
into the yourself

Dream-weaver
Having played your hand,
spill yourself
out into the silence
you, spilled out
draw yourself back
into yourself,
your thorns
sharp as the angled
slivers of your
affection