The rich crimson blood that pours from your veins,
like garnet;
sweet tints of ruby and rose.

You were a thorned rose; placed onto a rotting grave,
who made even death;
seem beautiful with *grace.

You are the beautiful nightmare that haunts me awake;
into a place where my reality seems nothing but-
**bland and opaque.

Something within: numb, cold and cruel.
creeping inside; persistently to hide.
shivering, deep aside.

I dig my nails into my skin,
wanting to feel something that is deep within,
but nothing is ever enough,
and I never seem to win;

I pour a glass of wine;
and sniff amongst the vines,
sensing the scents of a million heartbreaks,
that were only ever mine.

As sleepless thoughts savage,
the devil whispers into my ears,
softly triggering,
resonating melancholy,
the moan of a creature known to be depraved
and sinister,
soon becomes the lilt of an angel
who was once unfortunate
and misunderstood.
he calls me religiously and persistently,
captivating and lurring me,
to a side that has a melody; unknowingly *unholy.

Thunderstorms wrench
and howl to the sound of your voice.