Requiem for C

 

Ivory brow framed by jet-black hair,

Eyes that shine, still fading away,

Grecian nose and marble skin,

Like ancient statues, akin to museums

Forever silent, stately, quiet, waiting.

Stained lips losing the red,

Complimented by the line across her throat,

Blood red gash, slowly

Trickling down across the curve

Of her innocent breast.

Stately form, loose limbed,

Sprawled across the chair.

No more passionate nights,

Destined to rot.

Blood and tears mingling on the cloth,

Her robe stained with countless midnight meetings,

And secret whispers.

Hidden in the high-ceilinged room,

Dark black oak panelling,

Soft sounds of night-trade celebrations,

Countless dalliances, creeping through the curtains.

Inside only the beating of a single heart.

I look down on her silent form and remember

Countless night spent in passion stronger

Than this mere empty husk.

Feelings abrogated and lost.

The drifting of her soul

With the flicker of candles in the night.

Mistress of mine

None other allowed.

Her tinkling laughter and mocking eyes,

Closing forever in the breaking dawn.

Morning fog swirls

As I close the door,

To walk away, and come back

Nevermore.

 

 

copyright JD Marx 2012