An object lesson, seeking any disclosure
To this reminiscence of your naked form,
Now bandaged by the treatment of ludicrousy.
You were beautiful, in my arms,
And whispered fable from two lips of pearl.
You told me secrets, that daunted my mind,
You closed upon me, pain that would not ever die
And, outside myself, there is a scenery
Of Hell, and its voids.
There are people who never seem to visit
Us, with their eyes to be transfixed
Upon where we are seated,
Beneath the rain, that dances off our shoulders.
I am with a memory.
I am with myself,
Above the table where I have placed,
Fruits that taste like wine,
And candles that smell of blood.
Memories run from my eyes,
And bleed like red wax, from a bewildered soul.
Where is God to greet me?
Where is my Heaven, to save me?
Here is my Hell, that I have crafted
From two hands, made of stone,
And memories flood
From somewhere so hazed
Glances, in nighttime, so that I cannot see
Their perhaps memorable faces.
I remember you, the woman who drew me away
To find a home, in a heart.
But, here I’ve nothing.
I’ve given you all,
All, but a heart, that remains bruised and black,
Upon shores silver and alack
With a wilderness of strewn tears,
That act as the dew
Never brand new.
My love eclipsed, before it ever began,
And I have failed a life, I should have let die,
Because, it did not live long to see my pride,
A pride I’ve long to see let go from my side.