Cross of the Counter-Swan

Softly, you creep into my skin.

The euphoria of an abandoned wish

is the scent you torment me with

as I look into your eyes and see myself

staring back through the mass of tar and intimate regard.

I see you dance upon the carcass of time with merry remarks

ere you whisper in my ears that you’re mine by decree of bloodline.

My spirit hums at the presence of your touch;

still, as I let myself descend through your tunneling caress,

I flee from your embrace whilst my shell tears apart;

for the start of a feverish wont sunrise licks my wounds

to have me bleed and quench the subtle brute athirst

with the passion of a hound.

You yell out my name frenzied and crowned.

I turn my back and feel my tears abound.

With every step I take, away from your domain, I pray for your forgiveness

as I daydream of a time

when you and I will walk side by side.

For now, suffer me to depart.

I will return to you

when the primeval spring meets the secular in art.

The union of scorching hands will be the bridge

for our longing hearts.

You and I will be one

by decree of bloodline and ardor sublime.

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