An iron hand in a velvet glove, soft veils over roots unwavering- your core, honey-mouthed- your discourse, your silence. Within, there is the hibernating alpha-serpent, awaiting resurrections- you bathe in the light of her uttered incantations. You spot the red flags of the dark triad, you never wave
Face to face: eyes locked, staring into each other; seeing your reflection in the dark lake of her iris. Hand on hand, praying together- not like those bible verses preach- no, praying to the abyss, hoping it won’t swallow you whole; understanding at first the irony and then the futility
the fragile body and soul now shine with a different light and cast a different shadow: the light of god, the shadow of Lucifer. – Distracted by my flame, I spilled some water in that little cavity between you and me. Your presence turned it into ice, I stepped towards
The vanishing words, the vanishing images, the shedding of selves like autumn leaves; of withered lives on wrinkled paper, dust off the treasure chest in the desert, next to a snake regenerating its skin polished, your porcelain appearance melting into the undefined- does the new verse annihilate or build you? perhaps it
Awaiting ❅ Butterflies spiralled in silver – petals sleeping on the floor Eternally moved, I quiver- Tenderly pressed against the door. Of the senses ❅ Nostalgia persists soft as velvet, sad as lace, sweet and intoxicating as your scent sliding down my spine. The fragrant city ❅ Through the alleys, scents of old
