Ts Poetry Poet Romanticism

True the Night

an illusion of effervesence  
sweeps me away
when she exposes herself  

smooth lengths of surrender  
suspended in time  
stroking sweet seductive  
heart-built-strings  
 
invisible waters of life  
cutting through the corruptions  
wave after wave after wave  
washing away the hidden  
the tempted  
the sacramental  
 
skin  
reddened in light of the dark  
Satan's little princess  
sacrificed  
at the hands of trust  
lovingly thrust  
shredding  
the langour  
suspended in air  
 
disappeared  
pressed into the bountiful  
bosom  
sundry'd and still  
quelling the quietude  
so still

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Joanna Daniel September 10, 2020 at 12:50 AM A deep write, TS:)

Gershon Wolf July 26, 2020 at 12:58 PM Reads as if you've been awfully busy sheltering in place. lol. A scorcher, truly, T.S! Light and Joy, Gershon

Lady Labyrinth July 22, 2020 at 5:53 PM “Real magic can never be made by offering someone else's liver. You must tear out your own, and not expect to get it back.” Peter S. Beagle, The Last Unicorn Lady Labyrinth July 22, 2020 at 5:54 PM It is gut-wrenching sometimes, the most important things are lost or sacrificed to find oneself.