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Tempest
She walks alone along a thin glass,
With every peering eyes upon her,
Searing their wicked thoughts,
Shaming her being,
Dissecting her flesh and bones.
An arm around her lover,
A night of sinful delight,
A borrowed time,
A borrowed space,
For a moment.
They let their wishful thoughts,
And a castle made of sand,
But my Tempest I mourn for you,
Because every daylight means goodbye.
You shroud no weakness,
In the eyes of peers and foes alike,
A mask of merry enjoyment
And denial made to a cloak
But alone again you sit at dawn
With vacant eyes
Now vaguely I can recall what you used to be until you met him.
 Inoue Cross · Tue Oct 02, 2007 @ 03:12pm · 0 Comments |
