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 |