Tuesday, 7 July 2009

My Darkly Gothic Poem


It is a night of darkness, a song of sorrow,
wolves vent their pain. The eternal one

Fog shrouds her pale form,
an everlasting fear.

Her raven hair cascades over
pale shoulders, and her
full crimson lips part slightly, to taste the
red tears streaming from the
pale flesh beneath

Now a night of ecstasy,
I remember her.

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