In the dance of shadows his claiming touch lingers,
His grip a silken chain shackling her forever,
A voice of clouded thunder masked behind his gentle facade,
Her cries of agony a beloved tune of his,
As he bounds her by "love's" cruel gain.
In the dance of shadows his claiming touch lingers,
The night conceals her bruised body and soul,
In every touch of his warmth,
In every touch her fragment icy,
A fractured heart beneath a tyrant's obsession,
Where dreams of light are controlled by darkness,
Through whispered lies her spirt begins to fade away,
A captive heart in his crimson shadow,
The Devil's plaything,
Little bitch.
~ Sapphirus
YOU ARE READING
Thoughts of a Loner.
PoetryPoetry written by yet another individual just existing throughout as any other being like any of you, experiencing life and suffocating thoughts.
