Saffron's Curse

Through arcades where shimmering snowfall, lay in state with the sad and damned. A rent lament barely flung above a whisper, drew me like a ghost to the haunts of man. I Found her tempting fate between her wrist and razor. A kindred spirit in a graveyard, beneath the stature of a colder saviour. Mist hung like thieves wreathed in scant arabesques, and through the chill earth it bedwed her drawling breast. Like a come dream true under etched glass spent, making love to the beautiful dead. She has sinned and severed heaven, and in its vulgar sight, two figures writhe, but one silhouette, extends its fingers to the light. Gothic towers tottered on my heels, as I fled asylum grounds. Committing hard crimes to soft cells, where now another's screams resound. From the gaspings in her passing, six feet under or beneath frayed gown. When her hands pointed to midnight, in a white stained chamber bound. I swept her from the abyss of another dementia. Freeing her soul from the fetters of fate, to take the reins of pleasure. Now nightwane mirrors freeze in seizure, at the glimpse of charmed pins in her thighs. Ballrooms filled with black cats scratch, out of spite and playful eyes. Pricked as a witch her stitches itch, for familiar lips to lick them dry. Whilst the dark regrasps, for if she asks, the sun forsakes the rite to rise! And is the first to discern, that this angel's return, is a vengeful call on grace. For even martyrdom backs from its suicide pacts, a leap of twisted fate betrayed. The scars will last until the stars, caught in her train bewitched. Fall into line and yield the sign, that dawn in born to their eclipse. For our inhumankind, comes an underdog day sunrise. Rippling with fire like femaledition. Wind amidst the flame, I gazed out, tapped into the fog and shared her pain. When in her mind she sought his leave, and begged forgiveness. I splintered her coffin and lay on the floor, of a vault with her clasped as the moon hugs the shore. What treachery this that she breathed no more? Christ you bastard! I wished her back but the dead adored her, even wild winds sang in chora for her. Saffron from my heart, from the start I swore: We'd be together more! Creation froze with the triumph of Death, but still she stirred and awoke bereft, of concern save for the aeons left, o lead the darkness. She schemes of growing power, and the lengths sucked hard to get it. I dream of being God but ever living to regret it. Our fecund nature decrees that Jesus wept come for, the Devil on her knees. To grant her lows a remedy, and mine desire's wish, to taste thereof of Heaven's scent, as sick and twisted as it is. For her corset laced with arsenic, hides snake curves within her midst. Whilst her halo of white lies supplies, her temple to what God forbids.