Diamond bullets graze the thoughts of my mind,
Formed under the pressure of the intentions I misalign.
Noting eyes warped into the Minotaur's maze,
I ponder what she would say about your unwavering gaze.
Worshiping my name in your slumber religiously,
You count each strand of auburn hair individually.
I dye my lips and present you a cherry,
Though a kiss without a priest, denies us to marry.
Lacking pigment for this fruitful, ginger, hue,
She pricks her fingers bloody, so she may have it too.
To wear serpent emeralds on her bosom instead of her eyes,
Is knowing that Medusa will foreshadow her demise.
I ask you to clip back my flaming locks in a slithering attempt,
The scales of my ivory skin itch thoughts you wish to repent.
I smile while you inhale my breath of poppy,
As rain sings the siren song of summer you soon copy.
Keep your man without begging the Sandman for release,
I only exist in a songwriter's masterpiece.
YOU ARE READING
An Ode to Muses to Kalliope
PoetryThis poetry collection explores regret, isolation, philosophy, with a sprinkling of guilt. Historical references are encouraged! If you're just going through the motions of life, whether it be blissful or difficult, these poems are great companions...
