He opened his eyes in a night sky,
Waxed black and fed by dews darkness,
Ebon and incarnadine mists consumed the air,
One hundred ravens in coracinet played

Soft music gliding her pale feet,  
Quivering a flutter she swayed dreaming,
Before his black oak door,
Long his finger enchanted the path,

Fluttering onward in rapture,
The bell rings and rings,
Come dance, dance with thee,
Enchanted ye be

Her naked withering pallid body,  
Of silk and chiffon he enfolded,
Her lips tasting amber and figs ripening,
Coruscating maidens swirled an epitome of dance

Not until she was dark grown repentance,
Renouncing all others,
Only then he shall devour upon her,
A bargain be struck,

Swept away riven by her dreaming plea,
My lady crowned dance with thee,
Beholdeth spelled she be troth,
And the Raven King hungered upon her lips

Forever radiant enchanted black,

── Unto the dance of night, his eternally bound


© Arnay Rumens 2015

I never understood
How anyone could not see the sadness
In you
You smiled
Like being alive was a burden
You danced
Like you wanted to forget the world
You laughed
So beautifully
But it happened so rarely
I wonder
Could I help ease the pain
Of living alone?

I know that my writing is the most beautiful
when my pillow has soaked up my tears
when my breathing is staggered
and my throat hurts from trying to hold back

but who really cares about a beautiful poem

now i'm just depressed
and useless