::Iona::
Your bony fingers stroke my hair and snag in the twisted strands.
I recoil from your putrid breath
as you lean into me.
Flies congregate where you are,
and you are where I am.
You smile knowingly,
because I am yours.
posted by MissTaken @ 5:06 PM
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Reading this sends a chill through random nooks of my skeletal frame...
Love it. ^_^ I've also scrolled down the page for more poems. And, I must say, how I adore the piece entitled "Of Despondency."
My first visit to your blog has been a pleasure. Do write more. ^_^
Soulless,
Been busy over the holidays and didn't check my email. I very much appreciate your kind and encouraging words. Thank you for taking the time to post your thoughts.
Wishing you a bountiful and inspiring New Year.
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You must be quite a couple.
This reminds me a bit of Shakespeare's poem: My Mistress' Eyes.
My Mistress' Eyes
My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips' red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damask'd, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground.
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare.
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