The Sins of the Beloved

 (A lone voice whispers)

From all those sad love letters left behind that I still sometimes read whenever I feel the deep need

All those special poignant ones which still call to me like Odysseus sirens

Even though they always cut so deep afterwards like a sharp butcher’s knife

Those dark ones which whisper as they smother and conquer my every heaving breath

All those secretly treasured ones which still reek with your Machiavellian

So tempting perfume tinged with a mischievous seductive glint 

That whispers of unspeakable deeds and ominous rules

Which I always see engulfing each and every corner and dark silhouette of this 

Our old bedroom

Subtle hints of all the wild memories 

Of salacious sin, we once so wantonly engaged within

 Yes you know the ones 

All those French-kissed pacts

Old whispered saliva sealed symbolic acts 

Of our impervious brush from high above 

Where you once said so delicately and so evocatively 

I love you

And painted a magnificent priceless portrait in sweet crimson kisses

So visually compellingly the legendary Michelangelo 

Would have cried if he witnessed or tasted 

A drop of it before he could paint it 

Before he died

 

You stated so bravely to the congregation of shadows 

And to the watching Nether World 

In this life of thunder and all its many conflicts

You'd be mine forever

You'd stay to help me conquer uncharted mountains and waves 

And be my one and only wife in this version of a new life

But I suppose deeds done in the Basking of The Witching Hour 

After the stroke of Midnight

When all emotions lay naked and bare 

As the fine line between truth and fantasy 

Fluctuates and swirls

Especially when the Full Wolf Moon 

Looks down and roars in silent smug victory 

As its eternal energies are transferred

Those who choose to blindly or subtly 

Utter wild oaths of fidelity past midnight

Should be always forgiven

For I will always forever into eternity 

Remember our first kiss 

That sealed our pact which announced to the watching shadows and the Nether World

Our binding act 

For you my vision of perfection 

A Goddess Incarnate

I will always still wait just like one of the many cursed foolish souls

Made of only flesh and blood

A now patient resident

Just cursed to walk to a standstill 

On this crazy mud called Gaia

With you as my cold owner 

My own ice queen

My everlasting painful cherished spiritual addiction

From who I always long to pray to hear from 

To free me from these rusty chains 

Which keep me a prisoner in old dreams where I wake up numb

Dreams where we once danced free and never had any fears 

Or shed any painfully sad tears 

Before society cast us into the desert of isolation

And left me with this 

My red and golden medal of Tristitia 

Which lies pinned deep but invisible above whatever I wear

Attempting to hold me together to keep me from falling apart

As I try to use expensive clothes to hide from the watching world

My broken heart

Copyright John Duffy