markbousfield

So I let them dance to the beat of my bones,
in the land where my singing brother lowed.
To steal a bullet in romance's first swoon
I left my skin to bathe in the glory of the gentle metronome.

I swept and swayed under the fire that she chose,
she fucked and flayed me until the morning arose.
Under lust's fatuous sin she knows my promise,
Is it ever beauty that makes a bride effortlessly deathless?

At dawn the beast resurrected so wild and grey,
the furs of his anger so violent and fey,
in the sweet haze of the glade's summer hum,
each step so soft in butter and blood.

As he breezed to his murderous game
she would never know his love or face or name.
as her bucolic touches brushed slightly upon him
hymns of hymens glisten in the pact of the abhorrent's whim.