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Archive for April, 2015

/for C./

I tore my heart out and burned it
on the Funeral Pyre.
You held the knife
and helped carve the flesh away,
crack the bones.
Blood pouring down the front of me,
you offered me a taste of my mortality
when you killed me,
pulling me away into Death
to be like you: pale-green, ghost-blue,
a grey-mist that heralds darkness.

Ashen, the Black Queen, her voice the coldest Wind,
her hands tangled in threads and raw from the loom,
steps from the flames, offering me a drink,
the Milk of her Breasts.
It is icy-sweet, a river of milk—
No, an ocean. I am drowning.

The caves deep Below offer new life,
my Skin is soft and swarthy,
stained with the grit of hidden treasures,
a thousand hand-prints.
Tender, awoken by an ember where my heart was,
a burning coal,
my breath is cold, stollen from the hollow
of the Void.
My eyes are golden beetles, their wings open
as doorways into the cathedral forest inside the World.
My new tongue is a silver knife, made to carve out hearts,
my fingers dripping of blood as I reach into the ribcages
to caress beating drums.

You stand at my side, whispering in your corpse-language,
a twisted string of murmurs and dreamy truths.
I look into your deathless eyes; bright, cerulean crystals.

Don’t let go as we Fall.

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