You Are the Puppetier
I’m only a marionette
on strings of smoke-
You are the puppetier,
and I perform
in your bed of ashes.
Your hands are the tinder,
and I am ignited by your touch.
I dance for you.
My eyes are twin sparks
that disguise the flame
burning me through.
The wood of my strength
is consumed
by glowing tongues,
And my body becomes ashes
in your hypnotic dance.
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6 comments:
This is one's thoughts about a lover. Correct? Wrong?
I found it mysterious and captivating.
It is what it is, Erik. I like "mysterious and captivating." :)
Ah, now that's the perspective of a woman in the throes of unrestricted and insatiable passion.
All consuming,laser focused and greedy need which leads to her aftermath of devastating satiation.
BTW-I found a hunky Egyptian on my "secret site".
Consumed by another,
Yet revelling in that
Self same act.
To rise anew,
Phoenix-like,
Or burn thy image,
In the observer's eye,
Indelible,
The memory.
The marionette aflame.
Wow, Michele! You are getting quite adept in your descritpitve writings, Hun! :) *runs to check 'secret site'
Wow, Tsavo. I like your take on it, what a great spin on the original concept!
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