Lost in body,
love’s chains tie us down.
Lost in flesh,
bone-chilling frosts blanket the world.
Lost in desire,
sins are strangled, begging for one more breath.
Lost in love,
crawling on our bellies, we claw our way to the light.
Poetry through the Seasons of Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Lost in body,
love’s chains tie us down.
Lost in flesh,
bone-chilling frosts blanket the world.
Lost in desire,
sins are strangled, begging for one more breath.
Lost in love,
crawling on our bellies, we claw our way to the light.
Man is no more than
shadows
upon the surface,
washed away
with the slightest
tilt of Earth,
false prophets
flashing by
one by one
by one.
Without danger,
Man becomes
just man,
weak,
frightened,
dangling from the edge.
His power reverts
to pimples
and insecurities,
leaving emptiness
for all those who
loved Him.
No prince to the rescue.
Only shadows.
In your house
I find
comfortable chairs,
banquet tables,
family.
In mine
empty rooms,
dark corridors,
and desperate
hunger.
Bleeding,
on sheets
so clean
I smell the rain.
Barefoot,
at the picnic
even the serpent
is happy to see me.
Beckoned
by your smile,
flowers spill
across my skirt.
Buoyed
by your memory,
I float
upon the surface.
In grief I swelter,
sorting through lies,
confusing evil with disguise.
Parental love
imprisons, protects.
I am released
only in death,
holding tight to the silk
from your hair.
My only truth.
Cast a spell,
start out slow.
Altered reflection,
secrets explode.
Delicate magic,
soft eyes closed.
Red petals plucked
from a single rose.
Doomed is our connection, tired of fighting in the dark.
Protect my heart from bleeding, always falling apart.
Though on fire when I’m with you, I must send you away,
throw myself upon your sword. Love hurts, as they say.
My coat, it is the color of my oft broken heart,
bleeding secrets between us, always falling apart.
If love would last,
could it be kind?
* * *
Scent of past love lingers,
clinging like lace against my skin,
tattoos of pain no one can see,
intimate like a friend, like a torturer,
intimate like a friend, like a kidnapper,
intimate like a friend, like an executioner.
The scent of love lingers.
Give me comfort,
pie and yams,
family to watch over me.
I am a knock at the door.
I am the enemy,
but never the one you expect.
Give me strength.
Give me story.
There is much to be thankful for.