Mine She Is Not
I wear blinders of my own ignorant
Creation I stumble aimlessly albeit
Backwards into a pile heaped with
The stench of her own devilish lust
To feast upon my immortal weaknesses
I am but a moth still wrapped in a cocoon
Of my immorality drawn to the chalky
Silhouette of her naked flame sacrificed
Before her twin idols those mounds of
Tasteless rosy flesh I pray to daily an
Ancient Goddess between her thighs
She grants all desires with guilt ridden
Ecstasy while I languish her honour
With songs of praise in my own foreign
Tongue or she has me use my hands and
I build her wet sand castles my words
Leap from the lips of her tower wrapped
In a grey blanket of frozen mist my angel
Wings flap uselessly feathers have withered
Away into nothing but bony scars and they
Litter my descent into rainbow coloured
Oblivion bad dreams of butterflies and they
Gorge themselves of my soul death is a
Welcomed house guest my new exciting
Lover and I lust for her body each moment
She does not let me come into her presence
An emotional abortion of our love child before
I sire death’s bastard I shall hang myself from
The threads of the lover she does not want
Me to become the man of her dreams is
A faceless jester me in the court of a
King a Queen mine she is not
Copyright © Lyndell Cadasse | Year Posted 2008
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