| Who is that woman, smoking in sadness by the rail of transparent glass? Her skin glows a dark gold against the softness of her gown white and barely there, legs exposed to hip, the slit pushed further aside by cold winds and rains that drip… So lovely and tormented… she stands there alone, unaware of eyes watching her. They are not eyes of poetry that understand why tears fall down. Yet even from where I stand, I can see the anguish written like ancient lines across her face. She mourns her lover's death, as each night falls, the days bring her closer to that fateful day. When to say goodbye? Free on the rail, yet caged inside and screaming. Lamented, weeping… this strange girl in white garments peeling. Whose sexuality is worn so freely on her skin, yet when aroused can think only of him, the one masked in Unloving, whose tenderness is sealed away in her screaming. Woes betide lovers separated through grief and pride. As lives turn over, death comes in high tide... the shores of these waters draw nearer to land, and I am left abide again with this fate's hand. She tries to peak with the thought of something else, she tries to use in vain this force as a source of healing. And yet... comes again and again... consumed with grieving…. I have wept upon each release, thighs compressed and bleeding. Each night, begging for my maker to come to me when I'm sleeping... to reveal with mercy, how such tragedy could every translate its song to beauty? Am I destined to lose again and again? In weeping find, I cling to the flesh of him that has too soon left my side. The memory of our other lives brand of what my heart's comprised. I have lost him before, never to know a sweeter beauty... his love buried beneath an armor of chalice cruelty. Behold, as I write this now, the skies have heard me… the Storm is upon the girl in white on the rail soaking wet and here before. I have always been here, naked before you, my heart cut out and bleeding. |
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
Categories
All
Archives
July 2022
|