you sit sullenly at the window
casting a perfect
moonlight silhouette
on the floor

your silken curls
graze your neck
and your long fingers
are folded neatly in your lap

would you break
like alabaster
if in a fit of passion
i lost all abandon?

and would you sacrifice yourself
for my sins
child of david, my lamb
like a statue of alabaster?

cold and alone i am
bruised
where you touched me.
bees crawl my skin
and burrow down
to my sorrowful heart.

magnolias, crushed underfoot -
this was once a happy place -
but all that remains is
the stench of your lust.

i think my limbs were snapped
by your
sheer force
as you claimed my innocence
as i cried out to a god i don't believe in.

ghosts walk these gardens:
ghosts of the children
you leave broken
amongst the trampled magnolias.

i start,
gasping for air,
choking back sobs.
but this is not a dream.

the moon says to me
"you are mine
come with me
come far away"

but i go with you
to sit on the chalky cliffs
inhaling the salt spray
sharing *****
and bodies

in the rotunda we sit
gazing at flowers
your fingers entwine in mine
your breath takes my kiss away

the moon says to me
"come far away"
so i go

and though i leave you
you must not forget
our kiss in the dreamhouse

slender fingers outstretched,
palms upturned,
your wounds are your stigmata,
an unholy ecstasy.

alabaster skin stained red,
sheets soaked in sweat,
hair plastered to your face.
how can agony be so beautiful?

surrounded in filth you are an angel
fallen to earth,
fallen to the gutter,
fallen into sin.

have you returned to your heavenly home?
i think i can hear your sigh
as you are welcomed to salvation.
the smell of your blood makes me puke.