Phantom's Hourglass
A Soul Yet Found.
As the rain pours,
so does the tears in my head.
For if I were to cry aloud
she would know
I knew her song is that of the dead.
The night is at her last hour,
her final song,
her ending symphony
This will be the last of my one person soliloquy.
The ending hour of my time to make a rose bloom without being pricked by her thorns
The air is thin,
the heat is rising,
and words are said in a manner neither party can understand but is understood by their movements.
The room is spinning,
something like a top on its axis.
Howls and moans are drowned by the waking of the birds.
But the sun isn’t out,
it’s barely dawn,
and the night still declares her youth.
Unable to avoid its thorns, ensnared by the beauty and weakened by that
beauty’s weapon,
I can no longer break free.
I avoided trying to say who this person was,
but with no success, I claim it is me.
Blood rushing,
but can’t breathe;
Mouth open,
but can’t speak;
Eyes closed,
but I can well enough see her body on top of mine.
In a euphoric state my mind retreats,
and bends to what my body weeps for.
To feel her touch,
even if in the end I will just be dragged down and shackled.
But I can’t help but to feel a certain comfort in the coming abyss.
It’s as if I’m walking a fine line.
A line that has been filed down
and I can no longer hold the pose of a righteous man of moral standing,
I dare whatever is beckoning to come take me.
It’s too late for me to run;
it’s been that way for some time. Her Lady Night is a cruel mistress;
time seems to be slowed in the last hour
and I am like that of a puppet on a string.
Dancing in front of a mirror,
as I see myself tangled in the web I tried so hard to avoid.
I’m wrapped like a cocoon
waiting to get the deadly bite from the Black Widow.
I finally open my eyes and I’m gazing into hers.
If there is an Aphrodite it would be her.
But her gaze is of Medusa.
I feel myself stuck,
stone cold under her whim.
She knows she has me.
I am snared in her trap.
I fear I may not come back.
Her curves are as though she was chiseled from marble,
trimmed to perfection.
A perfect fit, her body intertwined with mine.
I close my eyes and pray that she would go away,
for I know this can’t be real.
She runs her hand though my hair and whispers,
“let go,”
softly in my ear.
My heart skips a beat and continues to pound.
“Let go,”
she says again.
I start to succumb to her will;
my heart beating slower and slower.
She looks at me and smiles, revealing her pointed teeth.
The sun is almost up.
Can I make it?
Will I make it?
It is like a race to get to me,
the sun’s rays or the minx’s kiss.
I feel her lips reach mine
and the sun’s rays at the same time.
I feel the warmth of the sun;
I made it through the night.
I can hear my heart beat at a steady pace;
then it starts to die,
and as it dies I begin to fall.
Forever growing colder as I look up at the light that is quickly fading;
Then my sight becomes blind from the dark that begins to surround my vision.
There I stand in my own shadow,
but a light starts to grow in the middle of where I stand.
A door had appeared and there she stands;
for me to dare be so bold,
to gaze upon her body
to be tempted by her lips.
But her first and final kiss
was one I should have passed.
For Death has claimed my hourglass.
