My Mourning Gown

Snowy Steeple

My mourning gown
My stinging undoing
A wreck, ruined and breathless
As my lungs insist –

This firesong was ours without a doubt
Hearty passion, intuition, entered at our own volition
Look through my seasons
Look through my eyes
Onto the parts of me that no one else should ever see
Onto the pieces that should be left to obscurity
Douse the melting flame
With breath and touch and gasoline –
With lips and mouth and quarantine –
Where starched sheets tangle, like our legs
As kiss becomes one spark to flame
Within thin walls pressed ears could obtain
Soft moans, in peaks of cherished pain
Reckless marks on tender skin
Taste so sweet they should be sin
And mortal, crimson petals bleed
Passion purring rhapsodic need
Velvet smooth against the rough
To singe so sweet never enough

And in my mind I live to dream
Of angel wings we laid upon, as over skin our fingers crept til dawn –
Fingers drenched in the sweet obscene
That, after pulse and breath did still
Did hold filter-tipped to our delighted lips
Bleached, thin strips, of menthol flavored nicotine

Into your eyes I remember; I fell unbound
Silent, sweet, searing sound
To fade, to die as mortals do
These lips immortalize what was true

My mourning gown
My stinging undoing
A wreck, ruined and breathless
For what no longer does exist

6 thoughts on “My Mourning Gown

  1. My presence on WordPress fluctuates these past few months, but I always find it a pleasure to cross your work and peruse the margins of poetry strewn across your blog.

    Like

    1. Ah, thank you Watt. I as well have been lacking here, although I intend to change that. Although winter always sends me into a contemplative state, the words have been slumbering this season. Perhaps percolating? 🙂

      Liked by 1 person

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