CelticLion-The Pornographer's Hyena Dies In a Loveless Lair « Poetry «
Path of Ashes
Be quick to love this flame
and taste its blue skin
but a night,
where cruel the burning
meets the flesh,
no cupping wind will keep that light.
A preying breath
may steal the shame
that binds the fire
where it burns,
then comes the dark upon strange wind,
and feeds the red flame as it turns.
A path of ash lies on the tongue,
and soot drags wet
along the thigh~
yet dawn cools pale the waxing night,
as black eyes watch the fire die.
and taste its blue skin
but a night,
where cruel the burning
meets the flesh,
no cupping wind will keep that light.
A preying breath
may steal the shame
that binds the fire
where it burns,
then comes the dark upon strange wind,
and feeds the red flame as it turns.
A path of ash lies on the tongue,
and soot drags wet
along the thigh~
yet dawn cools pale the waxing night,
as black eyes watch the fire die.
