To Tan A Ripper Hyde

Dark Poetry

 

To Tan A Ripper Hyde

As the receding

Nestles of dying

Love

In full bloom,

Now

Sadly blown away.

The seasons of

Massacring tides of Autumn,

The soothing winds

Of change,

Now gently at bay.

As love's decree

Of passion

Resides at chamber,

Felt within the door.

To conjure a broom

For everyone to hold,

Peasantry, pleasantry,

A harlot,

And a merciful w***e.

There is a passion

That hides hidden,

Perhaps, betwixt the

Mosaic of love,

A paragon found

Within,

Like the hearkening

Of forgotten bliss,

The love of antiquity,

A widow’s hastening kiss.

 

 

 

Author's Note

Celebrating harlotry and the essence of ecstasy...