Cold Blue Lips
The sky is black as liquid ink with not a star,
Hushed and silent is the forest this dark night;
I walk a snow covered path seeking him,
The tangled intertwined branches creaking.
Groaning under heavy precious crystal icicles,
That dangle suspended like brilliant chandeliers;
The harsh, wild wind takes my long raven hair,
And my purple gown presses against me.
Every night I walk this cold, lonely forest path,
I come willingly and without any fear for my soul;
Even though I know that he is the undead,
His voice, his scent, his beauty devastating.
I have no strength to fight the love that I feel,
In a distant clearing he stands waiting for me;
His dark flowing hair blows wildly in the winter wind,
His skin so pale it mingles with the falling snow.
I am somehow floating, drifting into his sweet embrace,
And his dead, cold blue lips are at last on mine;
In a frozen kiss and I am lost in total utter rapture,
The wind is swirling and twisting and turning.
And I find myself in bed . . .
________________________
May 22, 2014
Poetry/Narrative/Cold Blue Lips
Copyright Protected, ID 05-568-308-22
All Rights Reserved, 2014, Constance La France
Submitted to Standard Contest 258,
sponsor, Brian Strand, Judged 05/2014
First Place
______________________________
Submitted to the Premier contest, Best Poems,
sponsor, Shadow Hamilton,
Second Place
________________________________
Submitted to Best Love Poems,
sponsor, Poet Destroyer,
Second Place
Copyright © Constance La France | Year Posted 2014
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment