madhouse of a ménage à trois —
the bawdy chamber of the blitz,
where three depraved darlings conspired in pagan rituals,
their lover's lament a discordant dirge amidst,
detritus of a bygone era,
a winter's eve of wreathed blossoms and withered dreams,
in this sterile hothouse of sentiments, tender shoots of succulents twisted in grotesque abandon,
vault where love and decay convened in diseased romance,
till the one dawn ecstasy rose like cold air,
and winter's chill singed the hard prickles of their passion,
now vacant bloom, fossil of wounds,
Itrailing anguished bellflowers in mournful amusement.
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Author:
Beatrix M (
Offline) - Published: October 22nd, 2024 02:44
- Category: Love
- Views: 6
- Users favorite of this poem: Tristan Robert Lange
Offline)
Comments2
Beautifully descriptive and captures the moment beautifully! The juxtaposition of heated passion with the cold unease of winter…brilliant. Well done!
Thank you very much I am glad you enjoyed, I don’t get many views here, I appreciate it very much you took the time to do so
Beautiful
I am very appreciative of the comment thank you
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