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qarinah
my eyes …
but slivers -
my induced partial paralysis allowing only that
yet it’s enough for clarity …
the moon is melting
tendrils of buttery gold dripping into the
boiling black ocean swells
and spattered from there, dancing,
to the blistered beach …
her oily outline spreads beneath it,
watching me -
staring …
sending her curses forth
waiting for the spasms of pain to twist -
to deform my appendages
and leave my limbs in unnatural angles
akimbo … and pining for death …
Luna’s amber glow dusts her shape with a
softness contrary her evil -
breasts and hips and shapely legs could
be a statue of Venus
but for the massive dark wings unfurled,
the serpentine horns,
and her gleaming crimson eyes …
even now -
in the throes of the searing agony she
dispatches to my blood
I still ache to taste her
to feel the pyre press of her upon me
mouth mixed with mine
hot flames of fingernails on my flesh
and that hedonic sway
‘round my core -
her starts and stops … and starts
like I’m the clay, and she’s the hands -
shaping, squeezing …
teasing me to a fiery flood of euphoria …
dear heaven -
what is this madness of moonlight that
she pours, molten, into me?
that makes her passion of more import than
my very own mortality?
I care not that my life is near its end -
that I have traded my soul for
but a moment of paradise
for that rapture is beyond all that I ever
wondered or dreamt -
that dark delirium is worth any cost
and here, still
midst my burning, thrashing agony -
sands stained red with the let of my veins
and stars weeping for my sanity
I still have but one thought
one doomed desire
one hope of this shadowed and
debauched demoness -
the barbed, brutal
bittersweet …
of her kiss.
Copyright © 2025 Gregory Richard Barden
( photographic art created copyright-free by the poet with GALA AI software )
Copyright ©
Gregory Richard Barden
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