Dark

“Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before” Edgar Allan Poe, The Raven. I’m sitting on the cusp of blazing silence, watching thick sullen clouds swerve in funeral pace, as ruby reds within ravishing rainbows, disappear into depths of blue laced emptiness, like silken fire rising from a diamond-furnace, illustrating the venom rushing through my veins in vain. The sun always knew of the pain I swirl to amongst silhouettes of burning stars. I am a mistress of darkness, crowned beneath a fallen sky sequined in sinful sapphires and amaranth angst. Throned to a kingdom that has no air for fragile flowers. I’ve faced cruel fangs of reality, that fed my paranoia with wistful peonies. There’s no ray of twilight for the tormented tears, I hide behind the shimmering horizon, painted with dandelion dreams in dreary drowsiness. And I surrender at the edge of doom to an agony of a pawn. But there’s no running from a lethal kiss that kills, like the queen’s gambit that would freeze your soul into thickened vapors of bleeding ice. Yet the moon looked straight through my soulless eyes, hoping I would taste an ounce of her truth. If only facts would reveal tiny seeds of grief that were sprouting steadily into what they call "madness" maybe then they would have known, even black roses bleed the same as red.