As the indecorous breeze does billow

ebb and flow of his dreams,

swelling a deep desire

for her to return

within each tide

of hesitation.

As the unconscious ark of salvation,

sinks slow beneath his sleep,  

drowning a deep desire

for her to return

he lies laconic

of malediction.

© Katypoetess 2016

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I search

for your soul

in every passing stranger's face.

Knowing it is too late.

I dreamt

we met again

soothing all the pain between us.

The cruellest of dreams.

I crucify

time through mourning

yet it cannot hold back dawning,

of my emancipation.

© Katypoetess 2016

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They say that the worst kind of grieving

is when the lost antagonist is still alive,

whether sudden as a spring swallow’s dive

or a slow wintered bewilderment in the leaving.

Buried, burnt or butchered cruelly out of heart

that did endure with vexation and veneration,  

fear of being alone or guilt of being causation

of their final yield to the wind that blows love apart.

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If I had
one wish
then it
would not be
for a kiss,

but to look
into the storm
of your eyes again,

and listen.

Katypoetess 2016

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From Emperor to Vampire, then a journey to resting place of amoral monk.

Dwelling in ruined fort, living in a sin of retired idleness. Momentary desires

to follow the birds south, he spends his days tending a garden of lilies in the desert.

Anthony holds his poetess captive for too long without his hands, she now writhes

naked and tied to column of lost temple. Tresses burnt dark ...

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I arrive. Quickly turning bedroom from Rome into Alexandria.
Skin up, pop cork to dilute and delight blood with Bollinger.
Determined to mix up a confidence to conquer, my
Goddess summoning up a strip tease of your morality.

“The triple pillar of the world transformed into a strumpet’s fool.”*

Coiling concubine - arabesque around your thighs to
nourish exotic fantasy. Arching p...

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Drowning.

When love

cuts deep

with grieving,

one immersion

bleeds into

the next.

If she gave

herself

in forgiveness –

would her shadow

follow her?

She unconsciously

weaves threads

of the past

summoning shroud

of the future.

Touched twice

in the laver

submerged in her

saviour’s perdition.

Condemned to

cold is...

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