Vendetta
While the chagrined wine
rummaged like a felled rose -
electric shivers in the spine
willowing the pretty mouth
and the abolition of eyes
the tethers that we rival
only strops the exoneration
into exacerbating this
premature demise
Waltz into the dark curtain
like a soundless hunter
Hold your vehemence
in a gnarl I'd never grasp
and into my diamond penetralium
send the lamentations
like ghastly susurrations
from masquerading
varmints of my sanctum;
Like a connoisseur contender
be the vendetta
of my trespasses
Into my insulated night
come, like an ominous chill
from the sniffing hounds
and do not pity
or scorn at my cradle
as empty as
a womanless bed
Stifle under your breath
to descry the black veins
running like a torrent horse
away from the fray -
A tide to wash away
the derided sanity
with a hathful of squalor
and caustic brine
These waterlogged eyes
unheeding its abrasions
silent like a grave
for all the exhorted alibis
but if you can crane closer
enough to catch my perishing
and wuthering pillars
shall you weep not
for the burnt shutters
of my vacant windows
for when your breath
catches the sibilant embers
the flyleaf would turn
itching and desperate
for another tragedy
Unless you come
for the perfect vengeance
against all the lattices
that sundered our incendiary,
for when you hold me close
into the spikes of finitude
I would gorge in quantum chances
and topple back unto
your generous brawls
poem by Norman Santos
Added by Poetry Lover
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