Poem: At The Gravestone's Door
One last moment
The gravestone, mute and still, thunders my name, my life, my will.
In her vex, she loved me. Yet vanished in my dreams.
Now I am but the foggy glimpse of a rock that is cleft on arrival.
I'm past old you see. No stagnant fire is found in me. Just me, the woods, the pain.
"He" is tracking me
Shattering the deathly-forest in silent steps sure, "He" stalks a corpse on feet.
I hold her gown, breaking down, pleading for merciful knees.
His eyes are Hell in deathly moments. Taking pleasure from suffering mine.
Each glimpse, she whisks the flame in cursing name, her ravenous heart so lame.
A moment of peace
Ravens pure and venom lure, I hide behind a brimstone small.
"He" fades a bit, dies in sickening spit of false beliefs and plastic priests.
She whispers to women so quiet. "You love while in the lifeless night?"
They smile, she beguiles another fool on Hell's sweetest gateway.
Licking her tongue on bodies gone she sings her lips in deathly moans.
Her left eye sees me last and walks at me in lovely lies.
I rejoice at her throat so white--last ember of knitted-love dances and dies.
We stand. Mute, motionless, quiet.
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