Stay at the bottom of the crevice
Under the creeping darkness is where it brings out your best features
Linger with a chill in your breath
Have a taste of my sweet fantasy
The thrills of an icy dream, inflamed fingers
Irresistible glances, trading smiles close to the heart
Every rose is fit for a tormented soul
How sweetly decadent lies her worries, tucked in bed
Shoo them away, coo your lullabies
Allow me to be in the phantom of your dreams
As you whisk yourself away to the nurturing arms of silk
The fragrance sublime;
Her black rosary scented with the smell of her funeral.
11/27/2023
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...
