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Trapdoor Destiny

Contributed by poeticmidnight on Sunday, 26th June 2005 @ 08:34:32 AM in AEST
Topic: DarkPoetry



The rain paints these windows in perspective.
New as a rising sun, so immortal.
Enchanting as the full moon’s reflection-
In a woodland pond; Netherlands’s portal.
Writ upside down in deceased, cryptic tongues;
Night-tide thoughts in blood drip off chamber’s rungs.
Cover my mind-walls without detection,
As rain swamps my eyes in no direction.

Moonbeams bless my bedchamber by section.
Window patterns reveal another world.
One ne’er visited in this life, yet seems-
Familiar as a lost home. I’ve unfurled-
My affections, I kiss moon-art on floor
Behind my bookshelf, I find a trap-door.
Carved so ornate, I’ve seen this in my dreams.
Every burnt image takes on occult themes.

Heart-shaped brass handle, wonder what it means.
Slow turn of my wrist, the door creaks open.
Stepping in, my heels clap on tile floor.
Fashioned as a chess board, there lies a pen.
Wrapped in black ribbon, I take it in hand.
Below are letters as white as night sand.
I sign my name, parchment is blank no more.
Not in ink, but in blood; was my name’s score.

In shock I peer up and view the strange room.
Crushed black velvet keeps windows in hiding.
Vertical black and white lines on the walls.
Antique wall sconces provide dim lighting.
Volumes of poetry litter the shelves.
Paintings of devils by devils themselves.
Great burgundy couch with silver feet claws.
Coffin-made table where a lone artist draws.

A man in the shadows, his gaze and mine meet.
He glides towards me with a feline grace.
His hand on my chin, and not out of line.
Our lips are now touching, with arms we embrace.
With eyes opening, we draw apart.
He’s holding my hands and speaks from his heart.
“I’ve watched you my love, waiting for the time-
Night would consume you and you would be mine.�

I’ve ne’er known love; I’ve always been a mime.
But, from his words, euphoria I sipped.
In that raven hair and ivory skin,
To my maiden ears, from his mouth, pale lipped.
My heart rides on bat wings as we walk out.
Hand in hand out the trap-door now without-
My old bedchamber opening within.
Whole of our manor, my new life begins.




Copyright © poeticmidnight ... [ 2005-06-26 08:34:32]
(Date/Time posted on site)





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