The pale visitor rose above my bed,
her frozen gaze a weight upon my chest,
high breasts like moonlit ruins overhead,
the shadowed grove between her white skin pressed,
each whispered sigh a promise I might fall,
her laughter threading silence through my head,
and drew my failing soul toward the pall.
I could not move, could not refuse her claim,
her hand a frost upon my weary heart,
each breath a tide that whispered only shame,
the world dissolved, its mercy torn apart,
I felt the dark invite me to the deep,
its cold enough to steal my final sleep,
and leave no echo of my broken start.
No comments:
Post a Comment