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Literature Text
- Taut, lost hands rose to his face,
As wode woes flared magnified, this hour;
His hands, bled to his neck, debase,
Memoirs from a breath of his voice turned sour;
" My dearest… She… She is there…
In my mind's eye, in a thought's reach,
My bones canst no more bear…
To hearken of my reverie's speech."
Thralled knees bowed, suckling rosewood rust;
His heart lived shrieking enshrouded,
Within his forsaken bosom crust;
Unto an enduring damnable ballad…
As vampiric sorrows plagued the caving air,
His walls succumbed to his quivers;
His chambers yielded t'ward throes declared,
Years of transcribed romance reduced to cinders;
The last strained droplets of tears,
Begun to choke his eyes of blinding passion;
For as the life of his corpse leaked of past fears,
The spirit of his soul became unquenchably christened.
This is a complete poem and will not be the start to any kind of a story.
© 2012 - 2024 EmbryonicPith
Comments1
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"Years of transcribed romance reduced to cinders" I like this line. Nice work here