She is cursed to always crave
master to the slave
bloodstone to the master
cradle to the grave
He guards his wicked treasure
twilight to the dawn
with a selfishness so absolute
sharing with no one
A drop or two won’t satiate
gratify
alleviate
It leaves her empty, unfulfilled
left to wonder moonlit fields
barren plains of a love gone wrong
a mere shadow of feelings, once so strong
desiring attention of a certain kind
left to search but never find
A price to pay – a guide to take her there
to his warmth
his wild lair
The path is tangled, craggy and steep
the mountains are high and the rivers deep
Frigid winds carry snow that blinds her eyes
still, she senses reward, fortune, her prize
It is with a relief so pure, so humble, so sweet
when he is awakened from his sleep
and then he gives her what she craves
Bloodstone to the master
cradle to the grave
You fill my cup…
forever your slave
-
Author:
Goddess of the Mist (
Offline) - Published: October 26th, 2020 21:03
- Category: Fantasy
- Views: 28
Offline)
Comments2
May your cup overrun with equalities pleasure very soon.
Andy
I think it is beginning to, Andy ~ thank you!
Woah deep and sublime, it looks like real life issues dramatised awesomely into a different type of ballad type. Kudos for this darkish story in poem.
Plz pleez do read and comment my newest poem, but if it's so difficult then just skip commenting.
Thank you!! And I will check out your poem.
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