Monday, 11 March 2013

Her name was Dementia

Footsteps of silence
placid steps drowned in mire
not a breath, nor a sigh;
deep she descents
down the forest of Oblivion.
Her feet beseech
the fallen leaves
for trinkets lost -
and never found.

Canopies of distrust
mocks her sky beyond
remnants of the lambent
trickle down the undergrowth.

Stab the light
and it bleeds;
slithering beneath
are moonlit serpents
devouring scattered thoughts.

Death stood alone
a little further
in a travelling cloak
woven of shadow;
with open arms
he drew her close,
tenderness he breathed
with a kiss planted deep
and he wrought her soul unto his own.


  1. thats a classic one...
    just wondering about the title..!!

    1. Thank you deeps. What were you wondering about?