In atramentous hours
Lust dances with anxiety
Availing shadow scours
To supplement futility

The poem written upon your sleeve
Tells of pain and of misery

And within the clandestine
Where you sought the nonpareil
Cruelty in guise of the pristine
Is all you wrought from parallels

Spherical mirror, ball and chain
Captured glimpse of true disdain
For truth demands you self-reflect
Or fall from reach of recompense

And yet...
His embellished eyes
Like gold-coated lead
Pull you further into crepuscule
And winnow the jade from yours

Your hunger pervades...
Pulled through the veil of safety
As you sleep inside his abbatoir
Comforted by a single orchid
In the midst of scattered corpses

And all the while, you've felt for another
Like a dim light in the falling mist
Reaching for that assuring hand
Cloaked in an even greater darkness

A fruit is what you were to him
To hastily be devoured
But fine wine is how I vision you
For I wish to savour the taste
Written by UbiquitousVoid (. . . . . . . .)
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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