It takes my hands,
but holds me back.
The single fear,
my heart attack.
Sweaty palms, and burning skin,
harps of song, beholding sin.
Shrink my smile
enthrust my eyes
hide my chamber
the blue rose dies.
Cherish the freedom,
dred the curse,
dead or shunned, which is worse?
Kiss the scarlet lips of purse.
Tingles and shrills
of a cold bruised fate,
acid these pills
a ebony sun slate.
Succombed with fear,
delay the past.
Drowned my tears,
I'm FREE at last.
1999
Jessika Noel |