deepundergroundpoetry.com
ORCHID
Twelve to three, unchaste and propitious
Into the grove of orchids we painted the rust
Serenading the twilight into our wanton desire
Despite the cold and it's austerity, we lit the pyre
Abnegating the trust bestowed unto thee
I stop at nothing, for there's nothing to see
In this starlit night, where our morning is dead
Fastening to the precipice of which you dread
And through the maw of darkness belayed
Flayed by dew droplets, our vulgar display
Wretched obelisk of the surely damned
A pain-soaked enigma stretching it's hand
Spent eternities like a ripened decorum
Of which blood was spat with murderous hues
Alas, no atonement will renew it's delicate glow
Trust in the currency no wealth could bestow
Watch thou decadence flourish and bear fruit
Sentiment lost among orphaned perusal
Tatters remain where erotica danced
As yesteryear, my eyes watch the lapse
Pity to undermine what guilt forbade you
Thine withered orchid amongst the tainted June
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