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The Way Of Love

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A land of frost, frozen in time.
Hurt by war, no-one dares to enter.
The gates are shut.
No-one can exit.
The frost is melting, dripping away,
In a torrential rain of scarlet tears.
Coyotes howl at the burgundy moon.
Disguised as hate, he moves slowly.
Closer, closer.
Silent and deadly the scythe of death
Falls upon my neck.
A sickening thud! as my skull falls
Flesh eaten away, sockets eyeless and eerie.
My life is gone, my blood runs still,
Life gone, can't retrieve or relive.
He moves again, this time to feast.
His tongue glistens from my blood, he smacks his lips in pleasure.
My tears unsalted and cool, fall upon the soil.
My life is distant, but my love is not.
The tree of life sprouts from the earth.
Its emerald leaves disguise my distorted, disgusting body.
Like the rest of his victims,
'Til judgement I shall rest here.
A monument to discarded love.





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Little-Irish-Girl said...
Jun. 29, 2011 at 6:25 pm
very interesting-it makes you think
 
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