My Lover
Before the Coming of the Messiah

A light snow covers my thoughts and I wait for the ringing of the bells to free me from the pain that races through my veins. She was my lover before the coming of the Messiah and she would dance for me in the privacy of our bedroom in honor of our pending doom. Even the gods sometimes forget that the dreams of men and women are a mere reflection of the selfishness in their hearts and a reminder of their warts. We bathed ourselves in the beauty of our flesh, absorbed in our power to deny our future and our past. I kneel before your grave and pray you will be saved.
Copyright © 2020 by Harley King
If you like this poem, you may also like Fear.