Dark Angel

By Silver Spun Sand

Tue, 04 Feb 2014
  • 466 reads
2 comments
 
Worms prepare 
to feast on my brain
and you feign tears.
 
Black – suits you well; 
definitely your colour, and
widow’s weeds add a certain touch
of  je ne sais quoi
 
and yet that fetching veil
cannot conceal 
what’s in your eyes. 
 
Eyes that despise the man
I was, who would have gladly
given you the moon,
 
if, for one fleeting moment
you had deigned
to throw his way
a modicum of your affection.
 
Runs through my mind,
when the day of reckoning comes,
the stakes will be dead even,
my dear – if you’ll excuse
the pun.
 
Forgive me too, if I decline
from feigning the least
smidgeon of compassion;
 
I nurtured you,
gave you all I had
and you bled me dry.
 
The long, and the short of it is,
by the time my debts are paid
all I bequeath is this adjacent 
plot of land. Approximately
eight feet, by four.
 
Modest, I agree, but
it will suffice, and what is more
 
together we two shall be
for eternity; side by side, 
with you, my own, my sweet,
my beloved dark angel...
 
How apt is that?
In death as in life …
cold as ice.
Certificate 15
Poem
Love

Comments

Submitted by celticman on

a ripple of discontent, spreading out to a mire, but there's a kind of justice too.

 

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

That's what I thought, celtic. Many thanks for yours.

Tina