Thursday, July 24, 2014

Femme Fatale

Your beauty,
Like a virgin gold-mine
Treasures riches,
And covets death.

Your eyes, darker
Than pregnant rain clouds,
More fickle than Fate
As silent as the grave.

Your kisses are like fairy tales,
Intense and false,
Where happily ever after
Has a witch lurking somewhere.

Your skin of pure gold,
Are the perfumed bandages
Wrapped by the Egyptians
Preserving their dead.

Your voice echoes in Hamelin,
And through sleepless nights
Drew me to,
Selling Bible for Bread.

Your heart,
A rotting cow inside a well,
Feeding the maggots.

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