Sword
love …
how sacred
and sharp its blade -
brutal and bloody,
the jagged edge that binds
my heart to hers …
but why, if it exacts so
deep a wound?
why reveal a wonder,
if it bears such horrid cost?
why let the parched drink,
if for thirst’s sake alone?
just as eager, the
thrums of an empty heart …
just as sure, it’s utility,
and it has no precious blood to let -
no coursing to stain flesh,
or weaken marrow …
it’s joys are but a dream,
not the nightmares
that now mock my soul,
and haunt …
her passing.
( Digital artwork by Ian Vicknair )
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment