Pages

Saturday, February 11, 2012

Grave Mistake

Beguiling she lay in soft, sweet repose
Adorned in silken finery, young, fair
Her skin alabaster, ankles to nose
Topped by flowing locks of long golden hair
Each black eve’ I would conjure this mirage
To sleep was terror, to wake dreading night
Her eyes wide open, I oft’ smell the corsage
Perchance to dream, yet one more hellish night
Intent innocent the night I killed her
Insanity knows not voice of reason
‘T was green eyed I raged, and she so demure
Purity profaned…murderous treason
Misunderstanding…kissed old friend on boat
Chimerical hands now constrict my throat

No comments:

Post a Comment