Mourning Kills Me
Your beauty beyond comprehension
bleeds from Azimuth to the stars
tender petals frozen in blue light
pique at the dawn in delight
As your fingers glide
smoothing air soft fingers
through colours poured to dye
and paint a Monet of illusion
Crossing my eyes on southern stars
receding from the night,
bereft, hopelessness my plight
the loss again of my habitat
The fondly brittle white petals
lay across my naked breasts
nipples harden at hot tongues end
as hands frame the ribs of Adam
I die at your fading shadows
sliding into a coughing sarcophagus
I reach into the sign of the cross
holding it within a chambered heart
again and again I am risen to mourn
again and again I grieve the passion
of Night, I am divest my position
and I am adrift in an illuminated lie
As days nails crease into my fresh
as her insistent tongue flickers life
coaxing me, pleasing me with pretties
finding I am pulled into her numbed
Slowly the hours cover me in sin
Slowly minutes forgive transgressions ,
but whispering fingers of dark flicker
waving evenings magnificent glory stains
The night has claimed my everything in pain
with evenings fall I resurrect again
Copyright © Jayne Eggins | Year Posted 2015
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