Crem de la Crow
When I was black and lacy in the center of your soul
and you were liquid poison in my blood
I unfolded into a dark center of satin
Where spiders spin their silver threads
Each one pliable and overlappling
We formed a private world
where I spilled myself all over you with all I had
until I forgot who I was
And grace vaporized into a mist of sorrow
I could barely breath through the smoke
of the wildfire that grew out of control
Finally burning down to charcoal ashes
And when it rained
and washed them all away into the drain
I crawled down there
to make a castle out of them
poem by Sara Fielder
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
