The Faerie
I.
She exists in pieces most will ne'er see
Beneath her torn garments of composure;
Her skin, washed by waves of melancholy
Rarely ever gets shown full exposure.
But she, I see, bathed in the sweetest light,
Her naked body laid, to me, full bare.
I cannot fathom to express the sight,
For though she, in offering lies right there,
This lady is a masterpiece of art -
She weakens my knees and so too, my heart.
II.
As I approach she extends both her hands,
As though in motion to which I should grasp.
Upon my touch of her gentle palms,
She pulled me into her sweet, bed of Asps;
For like Cleopatra, I was bitten.
I lay, transfixed upon her fiery gaze
Through which in love with her I was smitten.
I stayed the night and by the morning, dazed
I saw my lover had risen and fled,
I rose at loss, as my weakened heart bled.
III.
I wandered as far as my legs could feel,
Searching for that maiden, that Faerie.
And in resting upon some lonely field,
Of finding love, my heart soon grew wary.
Throughout the longest lives I sought it out,
A flesh as fine, a body as supple,
But found only an emotionless drought,
And all those maidens but brought me trouble.
Until one eve, several moons ago,
I found her sweet complexion, white as snow.
IV.
So now here, in that same darkness I lay,
Dreaming of my temptress, writhing in bliss,
Dancing in my mind that Faerie plays.
I think of all that which I came to miss;
Her pallid cheekbones and her raven hair,
Her small impish feet which carried her off,
Across shattered-glass hearts to her lost lair,
When around my head I hear footsteps soft.
Kissing both my eyes, my Faerie queen
Returned, the final night I fell to dream.
Copyright © Darren Mallett | Year Posted 2015
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