P
phantasy
Guest
Hate to start this thread off with my lousy poem. I have a feeling I am doing something wrong with it on a fundamental and more elaborate level. Some kind of response would be preferable.
You tied a knot into a graduate,
Flattened his hair, kiss-close, blood-red and young,
When you from his body away, his fate,
Your cotton socks receding from his tongue.
Your betrayal as he felt it lay hard,
And when you betrayed him his soul, cyan,
Thought itself a fairy-thing, crystal shard,
But ultimately the boy gave, just ran.
In daemoniac hour, from a thought red,
Your image but cyan, figures in dream,
Lying used upon the cushions of bed,
Your face contorted in a witches' scream.
Only death can save both from waking,
Only death can rape the cyan witchling.
You tied a knot into a graduate,
Flattened his hair, kiss-close, blood-red and young,
When you from his body away, his fate,
Your cotton socks receding from his tongue.
Your betrayal as he felt it lay hard,
And when you betrayed him his soul, cyan,
Thought itself a fairy-thing, crystal shard,
But ultimately the boy gave, just ran.
In daemoniac hour, from a thought red,
Your image but cyan, figures in dream,
Lying used upon the cushions of bed,
Your face contorted in a witches' scream.
Only death can save both from waking,
Only death can rape the cyan witchling.