There's a fire burning, black flamed,
deep inside me, dear, it spreads out,
finds me watching you, so dearly, and
leaves as burnt out as some old-man.
A spining hourglass can't count all the
looks I spared, and they could fill the
opening of the red sea, but they fail to
reach you on the throne that exiled them.
A champagne bottle might measure all my
dissapointments, drop by drop, or like
disregard you leave in the shadows, it
breeds and swells deep inside me, dear.
A preparation seen in battlefields, went
into my mask for masqarades and ballrooms,
that you disect with a smile, and like a
soldier deprived of his blood, do we dance.
And your skin, like a memoir, I'd die to
have my name inscribed, maybe make you smile,
and at your word, my dear, I'd toast with
poison in the wine, and keep all our secrets.
To you, my queen of pain, I....
I've never touched hands like yours.
Author notes
I dream I had came about with words and noises.
Comments
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Wow i REALLY like this! You were right when you said its the best thing you've written in a long time. Its so... wow! It resonates so much and the images are so creative and vivid! You really get across your despair and anguish. The openeing stanzas really set the scene, and as the poem progresses its almost as time does. You get more and more worn out and desperate, and introduce images of war and death - it really shows how deeply you feel about your 'dear'.
"but they fail to
reach you on the throne that exiled them."
This is probably one of my favourite lines. But the entire poem on a whole is WIN
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