Under the ivory moonlight, you lie bare and prude, keeping a dreamy face
Couldn't stand to kill your generosity as my finger grazed your skin
I know underneath is your horrendous, pleasurous sins
Pathetic and purple it bled, constricted under the rhythm
As your dainty heart fluttered symbolically in my arms
Hush now, don't you dare speak of the roses,
Their thorns cut you beautifully as tears caress your innocence
Glide against the bumps with your silvery skin, watch it drip sweet
Nail yourself as the martyr who never disobeyed
Consume the offerings of lamenting maidens
Why are you so beautiful, even if unloved?
I accept your hand into a dance
While delicate butterflies enter for warmth.
8/17/2022
YOU ARE READING
The Macabre Danse of Poetry
PoetryWithin the eye of the macabre, settles the subtle balance of life patient for a feather dipped in ink. It beckons for a plague. After the song of the Deathly Romantics finished, romance refused to wither in its casket. Waltzing in hand with the dark...
