A place for evoking dark poetry and other comforts

Sleeping Awake

Might I treat your emotive paucity?
Muttered the dark lord to his dragoness
Placid souls achieve new ferocity                       
Whereas empathy may not egress                 
 
Blessed be, majesty of mythical beasts
For I dwell under despairs ray this eve       
carving the flesh of recently deceased
to staple idle hearts onto my sleeve         
 
Grinding skin between my teeth I’d
donate blood to wet your lips certainly 
The warmth from your shimmering scales betide  
A strangulating uncertainty
 
If truth belays beauty, love remains blind
never could say /never will /never mind
 
Vore’s notes : Oh February,  how I loathe thee
 
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