Tuesday, February 2, 2016

A Poem to My Wife

     Not many of you know, but I am in fact married. I rarely wear my ring merely because I forget to, which is the same for her as well. Now as Valentine's Day approaches, I have a poem for the demon that captured my very essence.

The Dark Heart of Women
To the demoness
With charcoal eyes
You are the Countess
To my poet’s cries,
With ebon skin
Smooth as silk and hot as flame
Mere mortals create sin
By merely speaking your name,
Curves and supple hips
With tattooed flesh
And crimson lips
You make my hearts beat fresh,
But all is not good
With your seductive frame
You burn and boil blood
Within my very veins,
My paper-thin skin
And brittle bones yellowed
I feel like Marchand de vin
When my soul you have hollowed,
So in life as in death
It is you that I serve
And when I take my last breath
I know you’ll have given me what I deserve.

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