Gothic-Surrealism

Words of a world, strange though wonderful.

Waxen Tears

Tears glide

down your velvety cheek,

dripping from the flames of your eyes.

 

I see the ascending dawn within,

I can’t run;

I want to burn with you.

 

Could be stifled

with water,

yet smolder on.

 

If for nothing, in vain,

we’ll never know…

we’ll be dead.

 

I wish of you

to cast out persistent shivers of lonely nights,

with a fiery embrace.

 

Once beside me,

one to anchor,

when all had fallen.