Image for the poem Thorned Chalice

Thorned Chalice

Pure hate untasted fills her cup,
repelling soul to parch love's tongue.
Sour concoction, piss-poured mock,
absinthe green.. laced brimstone raught.
Swash menacing.. circles times three,
sloshing stale hurts without decree.

She drinks solely his beauty deep,
compressing wounds.. to stanch deceit.
Still no appeasing wine's chilled seethe.
Crestfallen.. she epiphanies' ..
"Ruler must first trust fate replete-
only then.. would Thorned King love she."

.. bowing meek peace to royalty.

King offers swilled chalice again,
of liquid hearts in poison blend.
"Lips shall not drink of death unsinned."
~She needn't prove love by suicide.
..drinkless.. yet dead to him this time.

Written by darksighs
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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