In my dreamy splendour,
Desire is the usual visitor.
She creeps in through the door
And talks to me like she did before.
A joy to see me she will skilfully feign,
Knowing that in my dreams she will always reign,
Yet in my sleep I hear myself sigh –
My heart is not something I can defy.
My dreams remind me Desire is real,
But this means that I cannot heal.
In the sunlight I can forget -
At night I am trapped in her net.
Suddenly then she's gone
But my heart must beat on.
I pray that Desire will return,
But this time she will not leave me to burn.
YOU ARE READING
My Own Tangle of Thorns
Poetry'Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, exhibit number one is what the seraphs, the misinformed, simple, noble-winged seraphs, envied. Look at this tangle of thorns.' I have always loved this quote. I have always loved Lolita. How the cruellest things i...
