The Cold Confession

I held a cigarette in my hand
Set fire to its wretched soul
As the flames turned on the burning death
I took a puff of its life inside my lungs.
The nicotine relaxed my nerves
I sat down beside my beloved’s corpse
And then I thought of things I’ve done.
I still smell the warm thick blood
That aura of life and death
I tasted it from her sweet cold lips
Like a sweet yet sour wine
I relished it as an addictive drink.
I had stabbed her with a blade,
A relentless formidable slash.
As she swayed to the rhythm of my hand,
I cherished that dance we never had.
My blade pierced her throbbing heart
Yet my hands didn’t quiver
I could only wonder why?
She did clutch on my shoulders
With her sharp, polished nails
Wounding my skin to cry some blood
My lips grew wide to a grin
I smiled to my newborn pain.
I watched my blood mixed with hers
An odious turn on, the freakish pleasure
I kissed her again, the one last time.
To feel whats left, the remains.
Maybe there was one last chance.
And then I saw my reel of life,
I saw myself locked in chains
Inside a cell, a golden cage.
All those flashes, guilt and shame.
A moment of silence, pain again
I stabbed her, cold hearted, without restrain.
Her struggles were all a futile fight.
I consoled, I said it’s all right.
She stopped protest, calmed at last.
Her eyes still gleamed as I gazed at them.
Those sparkles faded as seconds evaded.
I took her in my arms, my sweet beloved
And only then I confessed my love to her.

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Resurrection

I'm old, I'm ugly.

And soon be dead,

I'll be ashes.

But death won't contain me.

I'll rise from my ashes,

Like the mighty phoenix,

That I shall be.

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Enigma

"Once a pen wrote an melancholy,
The saddest of 'em all !
Even the hardest melted to its core.
Enigma stood still and smiled."

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