There's rain,wind and storm ,
november sunshine in summer,
the message of the loved one
that will never dock
at the quay of the mists ...
There's the night, the shade and the cold
like a reef prison in the open sea ...
Amour has packed its suitcase for Los Angeles
reserving a death suite at the Aster motel
where an instant mentalist awaits ...
Does desire ooze the heavy alchemy of the black dahlia ?
There's the weird, the wound and the walls...What's left ?
A torn flower as faded as life
an old fantasy that bleeds
this key looking for a door ...
The poisoned fruits of passion
made me torn your flesh ...
My kingdom ! My kingdom for oblivion !
There's always the vacuum after a treble clef ...
Merciful gibbet offers me your criminal unctuousness !
Is love the ultimate journey of the black dahlia ?
Don't ever come back ...
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Author:
lorenz (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: March 1st, 2025 11:01
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 15
- Users favorite of this poem: Cheeky Missy, Ellen Marsell
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Comments2
My father grew Dahlias and some were very dark. A rather serious poem that speaks its message in metaphor. Lovely
Elizabeth Short : american horror story .
We do not know what Elizabeth was thinking in her final moments, but this poetic vision allows us to imagine a dual perspective: the one who departs and the one who extinguishes her.
The mystery of the black dahlia will probably never solved ...
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