Dec. 7, 1987
With what silken threads
we weave the web
to bind our loves.
How tenderly they’re trapped;
with kind caresses,
we kiss them into oblivion.
And when unconscious,
how sweetly do we ****
the life from them!
Do they struggle in the
silken web, and know
that they are being caught?
Or do they look into
our fixed eyes, and
lose themselves in depths
of need and pity there?
Struggling to free you,
I tear the web to pieces.
Cast upon the ground,
I watch you flutter off,
and wait, self-bound, until
I become the prey
of some unkinder
devourer.
* * *
Sep 16, 2015
Sep 16, 2015 at 1:30 AM UTC
Dec. 7, 1987
With what silken threads
we weave the web
to bind our loves.
How tenderly they’re trapped;
with kind caresses,
we kiss them into oblivion.
And when unconscious,
how sweetly do we ****
the life from them!
Do they struggle in the
silken web, and know
that they are being caught?
Or do they look into
our fixed eyes, and
lose themselves in depths
of need and pity there?
Struggling to free you,
I tear the web to pieces.
Cast upon the ground,
I watch you flutter off,
and wait, self-bound, until
I become the prey
of some unkinder
devourer.
* * *
