Sombre, pensive, disquietude
Disconnected, subtle, lewd
All emotions rolling 'round
Shattered glass on holy ground

Silver lining made of stone
Face of darkness set alone
Wings of sulphur, ashen down
Butterflies stitched in her gown

Queen of sacrilegious lies
Blood and fire stain black eyes
Lips like poison, dripping lust
Serpent tongue that whispers trust

Silken skin of granite gray
Sparkles stone when in the day
Prehensile tail and wicked strength
Ebony hair of staggered length

**** woman of the night
Seeking prey and seeking fight
Lay you down on holy stone
Death by *** though not alone

When her eyes light on your skin
Flames of lust lick up and in
Against her charms you've not a chance
So open wide and join her dance

Why can't you see you're beautiful?
You take my breath away.
Your eyes swirl colors like the sea
some blue, some green, some gray.

When you anger they shift dark
just like the perfect storm.
I often linger in your eyes
devoid of weight or form.

The clouds are jealous of your skin,
it's texture soft and fine.
Your smile can make flowers bloom,
so like the sun it shines.

Your hourglass has perfect curves,
I've memorized each one.
I know you think you've got too much,
but that idea I shun.

I know you hate the way that age
has changed your hair from fawn
to the gentle sweep of angel white,
like feathers from a swan.

It frames your face creating clouds
to sweep your ocean eyes,
and all I see when I see you
is perfect love's disguise.

I lift my quill, prepared to write
My heart provides the well
The ink comprised of blood and tears
The parchment bone and spell
For if I do my duty right
Enchantment holds the key
My words will wrap you in my world
Make you a part of me
Attentive to each stroke of pen
My secrets now revealed
I hope my pain provides the path
For others to be healed

I stumbled into darkness,
head and heels into your well.
So unprepared and shaken,
heart enchanted by your spell.

I caved within the hour
to demands so soft and sweet.
And breath to breath, skin to skin,
I wait for hearts to meet.

But like a mirror's reflection
you were images and air.
You never jumped, never fell,
Were never really there.

Should they find me, years from now
oh the stories they will tell,
of how you left me broken
at the bottom of this well.

The birds are circling overhead;
they see what I cannot.
Their God’s-eye view grants them leave
to see what men have wrought.

Although we seem to grow and change,
and “civilization” spreads like disease,
the eyes of starving children proclaim
that self-interest’s  the god we appease.

We rage against any injustice
by loudly shaking our fists.
Alas, when it’s action that’s needed
most disappear in the mists.

And so the birds keep circling,
watching where people cannot.
Their God’s-eye view grants them leave
to see what men have wrought.