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My Belladonna Lonesome
My Belladonna Lonesome
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We’re all regathering the same pain through different pairs of eyes, pain as vampiric as the azure of the shadow stage, where all memories dance serenely as fairytale suicides. We watch the lovers long lost dress themselves in roseate coats and vast esteem, only to impress the air of the room they are stashed in, and nothing more. The animals of her dreams haven’t any names in their heartless rapture; The smiling cherubs seemed asleep along the edges of the corner shelves, where her passions were bottled in lucid posterity. Lampshades for tabletop mysteries, electric dust clouds shone out from the candlelight, an entire galleria of useless delicacies-Handsfasting the double-sided nightmare, must my restless heart be weighted by the burden of tear-soaked tapestries, merely to decorate my spirit with needless disguises, or to ornament my body with belladonna astringencies? I’d rather be fluent in the language of abandon; There is no such thing as useful criticism especially with such dilemmas as nostalgia. I would dare to bet that every sentiment has been forlorn with the spirit, every memory wretched, and a selection of the consequences unrealized. There is a room where I had once attended the absolution of my phantoms-They were lying across the balconies of despair, each balcony personally entitled by the memory that it contained. The addictions and the mistresses could only be executed if they were forgotten. Eventually in the distance of seemingly a million nights, every lantern had extinguished itself, every wishful memory of a face or a liaison had faded past the blue vagueness of childhood. A common soul wouldn’t question the value of reminiscence, the reason one should cherish a moment, or even the meaning of remembrance. Time will take your life in stride, so why mustn’t one take time in stride? The cold shoulder of commitment strangles the dark with her sirenic offerings. The promises were stranger than their maker, that one would never feel the same whenever they’re alone, and that every familiar presence would become antique and lost. The worth of a lover has become questionable on society-The debt of a confidante to stand outside your door is like taking yourself for granted.
Whose company has urged to be with my heart, whose eyes have wanted my lamp to luminate their back alleys? My dreams have been clothed in the gray elegance of a funeral, while my sins rupture in masochistic poises. The fulfillment of temptation sets off the consequence; The fluidity of an occurrence engraving the mood behind the keepsakes that littered her foothold. What happened to the vase decaying in the sun? Where are its roses, never strewn through the summer? Belladonna fragrances that were jeweled in the air have poisoned the making of love once there, the leaflets had frozen by the windows shade above the pleasures of personal promenade. Beneath the dark halos of crystalline trees, two lifetimes formerly crossed prospected the bleeding future; Holding their hearts in the face of exile, the world they lived was called imaginary-Whether this it became or had always been, it is surely what it shall stay. If the bloody future holds any of the hopes we’ve once fancied, then let’s keep on dreaming because I’m no longer who I was with you. Our tides are separate, and romance isn’t just sleeping, it is dead. In this belladonna solitude please don’t promise me anything; By the time of dying leaves blows by, I will no longer know you or will you know me, our Halloweens will no longer be costumed but forgotten separately. Belladonna bittersweet as the rotting moon, nestled in the fluid chills of a sighing tomb. Belladonna laid to rest, whose tears were potpourri upon the scenery of the pinking dawn. Belladonna who loved like her name of deadly nightshade, has left at last her desperate mask and masquerade. Yet at times when I wander where ever we once were, I can still feel the footprints we before had tread, and in those wandering times I never can deter, the footprints we had left behind that haunt me now instead.
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Published 5th Nov 2009
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5th Nov 2009 8:58pm
5th Nov 2009 9:34pm
Thank you so much! ^_^
You haven't a clue how much I appreciate such kind words...
sincerely, thanks a lot for even reading it let alone liking it as you do.
*bows*
j.g.
You haven't a clue how much I appreciate such kind words...
sincerely, thanks a lot for even reading it let alone liking it as you do.
*bows*
j.g.
Anonymous
6th Nov 2009 11:57am
i love it johnny.ur words leave a very strong impact,i love how u can weave together words to create so tangible a feeling.Very good indeed. Could I suggest you to enlarge your fontsize n leave some space between the two sections?:-)
6th Nov 2009 5:10pm
as i had no doubt your work would be... i feel completely engulfed in your piece... your quite masterful at toying with words... needless to say marvelous job
Anonymous
6th Nov 2009 7:43pm
Fantastic! And here's me thinking that the great dark Gothic romances were gone...
