Tides
He wore white robes
They matched his hair
And shone with the brilliance
A radiant sun
He pulled me close
To bless
To Whisper
My blood on his fingers
Marring purity
We both knew he would kill me
– how could he not?
Secrets and oaths bound
Better I were a deamon
Even though I was not
But I wasn’t sure
Maybe I was?
Just a little
What was evil anyway?
Hot breath and sacred pan
Stains of ages
He wept
I did not
For I knew he loved me
Soon everyone would know
Posted: Friday, June 11th, 2021 @ 9:46 pm
Categories: Poems.
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