The Lovers Fate-Tale
Words unbroken but on edge are afloat on the water like a creature undead.
Corpses smoke clover and when they spark, it's like old times again.
My friend, where have you been? Hell isn't so tough. You're not afraid.
You're on the mend, on the break, on your terms, just burning until there's
nothing left.
Eyes, soulless and benign, they follow my every move, my every wound.
Your hands cut me, sending me into chaotic ecstacy. Once you take hold,
You become my sin of cataclysmic eroticism of the soul.
Will it end, you and me? Angry, hot, I want you, but you take my words...
Neurotically, morbidly, we join one another in zombie-love,
a lifeless encounter to feel alive.
Sweetly, graying, you touch me with the embrace of decay.
Will we tear apart one another or just deplete? Oh,
You were worth a so tearing up our mortal whims,
our functionality.
The time we've spent together has no title or perspective.
It's unbeknownst to a truth, a cause, a loosely based name.
We're a transgression aggressively changing each...
Shame on me for being a shame to you.
Shame on you for making us completely incomplete.
Us, we're in a fire waiting and we're the embers dying to burn,
but just won't go out.
Smoldering heat beneath the seeds engrave lament onto me.
In a graveyard, on a tombstone, lies our lies trying to break free.
Never, forever, our promises were just enough to encourage suicidal tendencies.
I'm not dying to live, just living to die, waiting for rest of you to torture-ease my
pain.
Our hands grasped their counterparts, locking us never and again. The knife,
it was crying out to see the veins that always tease.
Every kiss to every bite, became a plight, but you're moans sound good to me.
Rocking, loving, we'll never be.
Now, with time, the question has become what are we.
Faceless, nameless, in our dust, I know what I'd like to be.
Let it be night when we meet and I'll tell you my dream.
You'll sing us a carol or just simply scream.
Then we'll battle until one cannot breathe.
Love me and I'll love you psychotically, without end, I'll be in your hell.
We'll unhappily be together as the two, The Lovers Fatal.
Copyright © Michael Guerra | Year Posted 2006
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