Tremble

heartfelt-bloodlet in the afterglow of the afternoon.
Shivering slivers of slime sparkle in the sunshine. Yet,
a collection of spines rattle idly by the doorway, the entrance.
Someone dropped lint, pulled lint, rather scattering the ashes
of a pocket in the mezzanine. This, my love, my forgotten one,
this is how I tremble.