Mourning Myrtles

My moon, w i t h o u t your delicate fingers stroking the claustrophobic chambers of this nocturnal heart, I search for macabre metaphors to feed the midnight monsters lurking in the cold crevices of darkness, like enemies befriending my suppressed trauma, masking infernal intentions with serpentine allure and diamond daggers, playing tricks on the soul of twilight. As in your absence, I am l o s t, like a muse without a rhyme, battling tomb-tides, ferrying the faceless phantoms of the past, luring the weary winds to follow the cursed currents, as if I have no voice~ but would they know, I carve these words with ashes and tears, merged with memories that never fade, amidst the Luna that found its wintry magic in the warmth of ephemeral auroras, oblivious to the fragranced flame of undying romance, kissing the skin of the Stygian skyline, an ambiance etched with doomed dahlias and spectral lilies… Tonight, feel me in silence, from afar, dulcet desires entwined amidst this distant devotion. Love me, as I ache for the scripted solace within the crestfallen crystals of your eclipsed spheres... I thread orchids with syllables of smoke,   swimming in grief through Aphrodite's                  lakes of swans    engraved with agony and pain                  as moonlight wanes~   swallowing mourning myrtles                              of   b u r n i n g  love...