From The Ashes

Jaded from the onset, the feel of you as it coursed

through the sinews of my pleasure, signified taboo.

So intimately our souls entwined, we knew it was

a voracious appetite that would constantly yearn

to be sated.

Parting wasn't an option, not parting certainly

forbidden by all that was holy.

So, we did, stoking, we surmissed, the burning

embers of passion's furnace, rescinding its fervor

to deepest hollows of oblivion.

Silently from the ashes, it rose, after lying

dormantly in the pits of my loins, it rose to

entice my spirit into that zone that bade me

not to enter for fear of repercussion doled

out by belly-crawling demons, ones that would

slither beyond supposedly banked ashes of desire.

No sacrafice has been too voluminous to repel

the exigency of your forsaken nectar, that   my

very soul house this fierce predilection for.

A primitive palate that would rage unbound,

lest moral recompense not become its captor.

The invasion was rancid! My mind cried out

" you've got to get close to see what it's made of",

even as  the recollection of its intensity  choked

my the breath from my core.

"Suffocate me not", I pleaded of passion's fury

as it poured the liquid fire of consternation into

this rebelling core.

From the ashes you rise, into this misted demeanor,

beseeching the heavens that you not be my destiny,

though I once again hunger for the  cyanide promises

that burn, still red, into my lust.

I thrive to stymie Satan's attempt to forge my temple,

but his song is a prelude to my own personal perdition.

Needles and pins, assail my butterfly heart, and hinder

its escape from the cocoon that serves as a refuge the

ardor I have fought so long to contain.

'Burn the thorns, so I can hold on", let me feel the kiss

of the rose, that they not prick my reserve.

From the ashes, the unbridled passion howls at the

blue moon, as I pray for true love as I once begged

for pleasure.

No longer apathetic, I cry to the deities to feel my plight.

But, honestly, have I fought the good fight?

Is the yearning to be rid of this craving one of

blessed fortitude or do I possess such resistance/

Is it within my grasp to forbid you not to be my destiny.

I'm still hungry, so I must pertake of passion's delectable

fruit sans forbidden

I thirst, so I must imbibe of your glittering rain.

How can I see through your eyes and not want to

bathe in the realms of their darkness.

Embracable dark, you are what I seek, you overwhelm me

and I succumb to your powers.

Be my salvation, for no longer do my wings want to

expand in flight.

Just let me float upon the tide of this taboo of pleasure

as I am captivated into the abyss of the ashes whose

tentacles rise to asphyxiate all my dreams.

I no longer fear the rising for I not longer desire to

caress the stars, for among them I will perish.

I belong to the dark, to it I relinquish my soul.

"In the dark, captured by his frozen heart, 

 I fade into the greyness of his soul.

From the ashes, dark souls unite.

marjorie joyce leslie

07/02/09