metonymy4u

after a trope by christina rossetti

many in aftertimes will say of me
that i was a wind in the chimes set free,
a trove of fear gone bad along the seams
a chest of ghosts, grease and dreams.
but you, you were the note in some refrain
that bent the trees, those lingering remains
of your one night kissing a boy to death.
then left by the road to die an end
cold torn. homeless.