Machiavellian

"Innocent like Pontius Pilate," said he,

it echoed.

The words knew exactly

what they meant.

His blue eyes saw salvation

he would admit to none

who stood by his side.

The prince about to bend history to his whim

had a holy man dancing on his eyelashes,

put his righteous head down onto the altar

and made him his martyr.

A night ago he kissed a man who had

hair as long as his own and swore

that he only loves himself.

(You've misjudged my character - 

I could listen to your screams

until Judgement day.)

Realisation hurt
more than rains of Florence
(that he summoned)

more than vinegar

on open blisters
(that he spilled)

more than

a promise broken
(that he uttered)

Little prince knew nothing of defeat,

but knew a lot about cheap wine

and dousing with it

the fire that scalded him

from the inside.

Author's Note

This one's a bit different, I think.

Reviews

[Thomas Fitzgerald]

Different yet very poignant, well placed and strikes gold in my heart! well done.