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.
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