Now Used In Love..

The bride's roses are dry,

They crumble under my touch.

Your feathery white dress is

Worn, its lace whithered.

Even our steps on the

Aisle are dust.

Now you sleep like one

Used in Love. Still seems

Near that day of restless

Ecstacy, you were coy,

Abash. And I held you

Like spring holds new buds.

Your moon-lit skin seemed

Soft, so palpable. Wrinkled

In its softness, now, it still

Beckons me.

Let me bite your red lips,

While you sleep coyly


This is my first post so felt like posting something older than my most recent works. My fingers are crossed..