Κυριακή, 28 Ιουνίου 2009

Morning Ballad.



He wiped the tears and lined the lips, the ticking clock inside him broken
She cleared her throat and drew a breath, condemning seas of words unspoken.
The bed was soft, the light was warm, the weekend sun shone through the trees
The air was soft, blue scattered flowers were dancing graceful with the breeze.

He moved a bit, and drew it close -his arm then bloomed into a hug
He pulled her near and felt her neck, soft skin’s aroma, soft skin's drug
He felt the edge against his thumb, the mute, cold alloy never lies
A drop of crimson stained the floor, a drop of moist between her thighs.

He turned around and guessed her gaze, he smiled at her the smile of bane
His lips on hers, warm fingers tightened, the usual press that brings the stain
A golden ray, a silver gleam, a vow and dream of one last strife
Obsolete love, all sweetness endeth; herald the end of what was life.

And she said "die" last night, did you not hear?
A word too final maybe for feelings to amend
They kissed; she asked him teasingly "What for?"
He speared his neck and whispered "For the End".

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