He stroked tangles into her once luscious mane,
and peppered it in the muted hues of time.
He smoothed the years across her brow
and etched his hate
within her blunt laughter lines.
He left a thesis of his dysfunction written between the grains of her invalid groin
and ringed the spoils of her scars in red ink.
He left her skin bare of kisses, of love,
of exploration or pleasure
he tamed the primal beast
he groomed her into silence
then gave her a mirror
Slowly it falls into oblivion smashed glass shattering memento. A brief pause when it hits. The cursed pleasure of karma. The jar becomes my integrity Piercing decades of time, the coffee grains, my dignity spilling openly at his feet. I count my blessings looking at the tattered remains of myself, it could have been worse. He bent to gather the shards of glass. It could have been tampons. That look, the one that says twenty years and still she’s as clumsy as ever. . . too late, the look lost now among the poetic irony of a dropped jar of coffee.
I feel only pity. Not for you, for those touched by you. Those stained with your toxin breath and acid words. Those that hear the echoes of your banshee scream as dawn calls upon another day and they believe they converse with an angel.
I pity the God’s you pray to, the hyprocracy in your evening cries, the venom in your devil eyes. A descendant of lilith, fallen angels with blackened wings fanning the vile words falling from your spitting tongue.
The serpent coils through your soul, what embers of innocence once lay there now crushed, dispersed on trade winds to a lover and another and any poor fool consumed by your succubus melody and the broken strings of your violin.
But alas I will carry your lesson into tomorrow on the beating wings of spirits love forever at my side. My gain was your want, eternal without condition beyond the physical realm. Spiritual devotion rewarded now in universal bliss…
Your lessons taught me the value Of true loves blessed kiss. Your game play was preparation, for me to become his. Your poison was the toxin in my climb as I learned self worth and when my King took stand to claim his Queen, I knew I was worthy this time.
Deceive yourself with broken fragments Enraptured images and shame, Curdled to create a mirage of self Envied in another’s mirror, death calls Imp souls to the slaughter Vanity, now speaks your name on karma’s Echo, the ripple flows so widely.
Some days she’s the spark that ignites fire,
a raging blaze of loves passion burning
fueling lit embers that raise her higher
stroking, nudging, stirring this deep yearning.
Other days she’s the silent, passive hues
Submerged in toxicity of drowning
she rebukes the swollen ego that flew,
leaves herself a broken shell and frowning.
The nightingale promises found love,
Singing a lullaby of forever
on the ebbing tides of home, calm and rough,
the precious pearl and her loyal protector
She wonders if all dreams are fairy-tales,
Or if true love is the holy grail.
and strangling ivy,
spite filled Holly
of my thoughts,
insects and natures angels
And we are
what we create
in the devils flames,
whimpering for the deed
they long forgot they
up and sold.
Once an angel
always a whore
Echoing in the broken
beads of thoughts
on a death man’s wish
Don’t you see the
shadows that suffocate
feeding from the sins
Yeah, once an angel
always a whore
pacing the sinners
I am my flesh
do as you please
I am my gasps my moans
desire and lust.
I am nothing more.
Once an angel
always the whore.