Was your touch or was it not so fatal,
For I have often heard of endless lies.
Reverence, care, and love for my cradle
Have never lain within what I despise.
Was it in spite of my mere reluctance,
So mere was it, or definitely clear
That you imposed upon my innocence,
And expected me not to shed a tear?
I detest the mistiness of the night
You held my hand, promised a better way,
A fog that then kept blurring my sight,
Whether at night or during gleaming day.
I shortly glanced and found beauty, so queer,
That I realized beauty can ride fear.
Jessica J. H.
13th of march 07