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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required I lie, naked, cast aside in the shadows, My flesh, bare, crumbles among the carcasses of half-dying thoughts. I stare upon myself— Is this truly I, This forsaken creature, Smiling with bitter contentment at my eternal decay? Is this endless humiliation Truly the flame of my soul burning within my skin? Who was it that shaped me? And who, so merciless, invited me to his feast of thought, Drowning me in a descent foretold long before I fell? Ah, I must believe, I must believe, That this is I— This frail vessel, its roots entwined with eternal shores, Bound to the edge of rupture and renewal. It is I who mock my own bareness with the softness of my skin. With hands too short to grasp the sky, And breasts, sinful as two forbidden fruits. Has this body ever truly lived? This body, now wed to death as its eternal mistress. Did laughter ever tremble upon her skin, On that day when silence Had not yet cradled her in its arms? And those colorless cheeks, Still flushed with the shame Of a foolish kiss, Did they once bloom crimson in their blush? That day when her gaze Held fast to the light of day, And as night fell, Her eyes faded, losing the hues of life. Oh, if I could carry her, I would bring her into the feast of false fairies— To that feast where each body Forgets itself beneath the dawn, And with each dusk, Their goblet spill upon the earth in hollow celebration. A gathering of naked forms entwined, writhing, Their cries of joy Tearing at the silence of the mind. I will weep for her, Weep, Ay, I will weave a wreath for her bow From the stolen petals of a neighbor’s bloom, And draw her eyes with the crimson of the moon. I will bathe her limbs, And upon her naked body, I will drape a gown of silk and lace— A gown whose trail Falls like the raven’s feather. I will adorn her with the scent of wind, With the scent of wind and leaves, And upon her lips I will pour the blood of fallen butterflies. I will make her the imaginary bride of the earth, And teach her thighs To dance to the dissonant rhythms of the night. And I will whisper to her, “Now, greet the marriage of eternal bliss.”
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