I wish the power was open.
Magick however flew away from your wreckage.
The greatest pain is seeing what there is for you to see.
Just the bare, open, nakedness.
Stark in contrast to the warm, half true shadow.
To smell the fresh blood, so pungent it stains your poisoned tongue.
Every time you inhale the tastes mingle, creating crude illness.
How could you be so very deaf,
Or were you merely mute, afraid to speak for me?
Did the threat of a frigid shoulder burn your tan skin raw?
So you left me, your scapegoat, to fend for myself among the wolves.
But the game changed, you gave an innocent, you receive a rabid beast.
The stalker of your dream, snarling.
A zealous defender of the nights we roamed.
When shrieking I cleaved to you, as the dusk flooded in.
And you hushed me, looking all the while for your own safety in them.
They, with padded feet and sugared words, both open and furtive, calling you.
You listened, I stayed, now I roam with the wolves, of the wolves, safe in shadows of me.
 BlueKalis · Fri Nov 30, 2007 @ 05:50am · 1 Comments |
