depravity

Lady Nightshade Lady of blooming belladonna, Your murderous beauty, Riddled with poison, Granting relief, Crowned with berries black as Jasper, Power of hidden venom, My Lady, you. Your blood drips fruitfully with toxins. You hold them in reach, You tease them over the lips of the living, You release your nightshade breath, You clasp it now, Like death's collar at a halt. Fruitful berries that mimic sweet faith, You siphon rot through your roots. A cemetery lies beneath your shadow, Your vengeful meal. Lady sacrifice. I, your faithful servant, Decomposing in your soil. I carried a single prayer, I preached your taste in trembling devotion. Now I wander, My mouth is dry from your ripe ruse, My flesh falls in the quiet of your curse. Let it be known, That you've become the last resort, That they gag at your rotten perfume, That you feast on their despair, That death dances at your steps, That you have been there for their last performance, That this lethal beauty is yours alone. O my Lady, Beloved by starvation, Now your servant kneels again, The rest tremble in fear, The rivers blacken, The mountains bow, The doors of heaven cry, "Hail!" Praise to the destroyer, camouflaged by prevention, Praise to you, undying Lady, Praise to the keeper of fatal grace.

Echo in Purple You bloom, Not in pain, Not bold, or boastful. A little sore. You aren't loud. Still, you hold what words couldn't. A song only skin can hear. The mundane mark, mistaken for clumsiness. A secret the mirror barley catches. You hide beneath a collar, A purpling hush, where love said yes. A bearing witness. There is no shout like perfume or dazzle like jewelry, You hum--- low and warm. You are not the kiss, but the echo of it. Left with intention, the essence of soft. You are evidence of something delicate and real that touched me. The pull of breath between kisses. You fade with time, as all tender proofs do. So, I thank you, quiet bruise. A fleeting mural of my body's brief joy.