Our Dark Passion
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This does not represent views of where I work. It is fiction.
The warm, quiet chamber had one red rose,
Lit by a candle,
And a flame that danced with the shadows,
From up upon the mantle,
And these shadows cut across her throat,
Her throat of velvet tender,
Across my slowly moving grip,
That made her mind surrender,
And my delicate rage pulled her hair,
Poured her head over the side,
Down toward the floor below,
As my thirsty heart required,
Slowly, softly, deep and calm,
The shadows walked all night,
And took the innocent from our want,
Our passion now oh so quiet.
Copyright © Lewis Raynes | Year Posted 2018
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