Song of love, twisted by welling darkness.
Vengeful art, practiced with vicious subtlety.
The softest lips whispered the hardest lies.
She exhaled an evocation of ethereal dreams,
Whose only prophecy was eternal sorrow.
Jan 28, 2021
Jan 28, 2021 at 4:03 PM UTC
Song of love, twisted by welling darkness.
Vengeful art, practiced with vicious subtlety.
The softest lips whispered the hardest lies.
She exhaled an evocation of ethereal dreams,
Whose only prophecy was eternal sorrow.
©1996 Jason R. Michie All Rights Reserved
Request permission to use this poem