Perhaps gratitude;
blessed by an
all telling moon,
dragging such subconscious
thought, to the surface
could suffice.
A momentary crisis
this poet; elegiac in mood,
amour propre; a deadly
reliance upon dragons
caged by their own
circumstance.
Blowing fire,
but not until
seductively, their
deviled selves
masqueraded;
abounding self pity
virtuously disguised,
lachrymose stories.
"Come a little closer..."
she was told.
Trusted, naive girl,
bitten, burnt
touching, hand in fire.
"This time will be different."
she was told.
And,
the girl, lost, in
bubble dreams, born
of, raging storms
believed; that love was true.
This princess of,
masochistic pain,
nothing blood red,
gushing, just
invisible violence.
"Believe me when I say;
you're the best I've ever had."
she was told.
Vertigo; medicated
by love, sailing back to
shore, cutting the rope
knife in hand, promised lands.
Scenes of lamination; screams;
she forgot...
The moon dropping low,
honey dew, stars flew -
she awoke,
to the knowledge of,
all her subconscious knew;
whispering;
"The dragon resided in only you."

© Sia Jane