Visions to behold # 3
I am the last ghastly ghost,
glib tongued and glimmering,
in the space beneath the stairs.
My name glows upon your tongue,
gleeful and dreadful
in the dreary dregs of memory -
a keening cacophony
of deadly delights.
You called me here,
made me legion -the languid
languish of laughter,
your new language of the air
and all unearthly promises
pondering their place
in this shallow grave.
Bury me in beauty,
in the bounty of wanton
wonder and I will waste
eternity, a willing wraith to wait
upon your pleasure.
RedThere is nothing discreet about this love -:thumb331851464: :thumb315452210:
it hangs on my chest,
a defiant noise -
the scent of something luscious
stretched between your hips.
Your back arches
in a way only Psyche can feel.
You wear it
in a cheap red dress
that comes apart like midsummer
in my hands
as we flaunt the stars,
the stones under our skin
stretching the bed frame
till we crack.
And I fill you up,
your arms a battle
raging in the waning lies
When I am oldWhen I am old and grey one day
they'll ask me why I lived this way;
Why all my life was spent alone,
no other let into my home.
They'll ask why, for so many years,
I let no other get so near;
Why no companion held me close,
and why a lonely path I chose.
They'll want to know so many things
about the life to which I cling
like why I never sought the balm
of womanhood held in my arms:
they'll question what it was that made
me far from all temptations stray.
For they don't see I found in you
the only heart I would pursue,
and all the others can't compare
when held against a one so fair.
For, through the years, I shall stay true
to all that holds me so ensnared,
And, when I'm old and grey, my friend,
I'll think of you until the end.
I must have done some awful wrongI must have done some awful wrong,:thumb296607406: :thumb339107275: :thumb336234722: :thumb334820941: :thumb334054981: :thumb335684431: :thumb336345731:
such as can't be voiced in song,
to be cast out in favour of
another life, that knows no love.
I must have done some awful thing,
the like of which the Devil sings,
to be abandoned in this way
and left to wrack & disarray.
I must be made of deepest sin,
the very worst that ever was,
for pious men cannot begin
to fathom my desertion's cause.
I must have done some awful deed
for her to turn so far from me.
Stamp so kindly made for me by Aeternum-Art aka Consuelo Parra. Thank you dear Consuelo!