The irradiant smile
leaves wanton women blemished
And torn, like new age rape
of the senses.
The assault...tender and
reminiscent of something
so precious
so impervious to viciousness
That I'd claw out my eyes
in rapture
If my hands weren't bound
beneath me.
Hushed and cloaked in a whisper
To speak of ritualistic killings,
of death and threats
And the things that make you sweat
in secret places
Things that make more sense
by moonlight and motions
of erasing the word
...That one word...
That hangs on the lips
with precautions and pain.
Would it be wise to tempt
and by tempting, undoing,
the restrictions of dreams
and other brilliant, elegant things
that iron wrought will
and the thrill make wicked?
What if it really means nothing?
And by nothing, n-o-t-h-i-n-g
We find the absolution
The ulimate resolution
That could only bring
evolution and doubt.
Author notes
Option 8. Just a taste of what I feel tonight. I hope this was something like what you were looking for.
Deviant Dreamer. Sorry about that.
A contest entry
- Porcelain Dolls&& Harlequin Dreams {Options contest} by Re-invention.
700 points, ended November 7, 2007, 18 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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Bloody hell. Damn well written, utterly intoxicating, completely unique and I absolutely love it! xx
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thank you very much for an extravagant piece. loved it. please put your name in the AN. good luck and thank you!
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