Mole

Perfection relative —
Love, oft cumulative.
Eyes, stunningly piercing
Through the heart —
Jackniving, shooting in
To the soul —
Burrowing, digging in
With clawed feet, pushing down.
The heart, begins to pound.
Claws knick flesh, blood sprouts forth.
Love, rushes toward swor’th.
Dripping slow, red and stark,
Burning bright, through each mark.
Each fire cauterizing.
Deep ache, now comforting.
Here you cumulate.
None other, can relate.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s