A place for evoking dark poetry and other comforts

Graveyard Suspension

 

After the funeral service ceased             
She remained abysmally silent
Twiddling a tissue now creased
and still dry in memoriam of a tyrant
 
Even during the eulogy she spent
Most of those moments lying in wait
Unassuming to those who went
Of her role in his current state
 
Hidden well was her porcelain face    
Adorned with stitches beyond the veil
Which accentuate the vicious black lace
In contrast to her skin ever pale
 
Perennial is she in winters grasp
A portrait of devastating beauty
Allowing spectators a lurid gasp
Their hearts killed in the line of duty     
 
Casually she tours the riot scene
Giving way to the setting sun
And within its amber sheen
Begat a shadowed foul one
 
That shadow is I
as I languish in shadow form
a murderer of seven brides
but there’s always room for one more
 
Memories of past lives in flood
Far too long have I spent
Sipping on cups of angels blood
Masking the souls final descent
 
I offer my shoulder to bleed on
Faster than coupled eyelids blink
And proclaim a love devoid of treason
closer than you might think
 
My heart desires it so gently
to wisk you amongst the stars above
establish a new form of gentry
wrapped in these arms little dove
 
Spectre I may be though
Guided by voices my aim be true
A precious life of considerable woe
Hangs in the balance of your view
 
Last Line is missing?
 
Vore space// The night of too many rewrites spawned this accursed horror..
 
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2 responses

  1. Miki

    Like poetry! Dark and evil or otherwise…

    June 18, 2012 at 12:35 AM

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