Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Personal, Writing

The Mad Queen

My eyes are pleading,

I am kneeling,

and then writhing,

whispering,

like Lady Macbeth,

captivated by your cruelty.

I am crazy,

with a heart so white,

black silk,

layered with lace,

on our bed,

trying to ask,

but predictably preoccupied,

with how much I fear power,

for its own sake,

or otherwise.

I am holding the covers,

against where you belong,

my eyes are wide,

pleading,

I hide my heart,

so white but so willing,

whispering,

blood all over my body,

granting guilt safe passage to my soul,

madness and death are looming above me,

but I don’t care,

because at last,

you are overcome,

by a mad Queen’s whispers and whimpers,

berating blankets,

that have touched what was always yours.

Brief,

timeless touches,

bring me closer to madness,

closer to crazed closure.

I am a sweet, satanic witch,

beckoning your body,

my dearest love,

my hand,

my tongue,

looks like the innocent flower,

but you know better,

my dearest love.

You know better.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s