Her

Her Poison Kiss seduces me And I Kneel to Prey,
Upon The Cold ground Where I Cry for her Name,
In Smiling I Make A Wall of Pain that is unbreakable To Her Eyes,
Her Piercing Shrieks Curse My Veins And Make Me Bleed Inside,
A Lock Of her Hair Is Kept Close To me And Breath Her In As Much As I Can
Before I Fall And Die in The Mud Which Makes Me A Bed For Deaths hand,
Sinking Down In Her Tormenting Scent That Stabs My Sinuses Like A Sharp Blade,
And wallow In The Mess That Over The Months Of Mistakes I Have Made,.
Lying That I Have No Regrets when In My Mind There Is A Million And One,
Hoping Every Sad Mistake Will Be erased By a happy One
But Still Her Image Is Like A Clear Windows That Fogs On A Sunny Day,
And Still I Wait For The Light Of The Evening Star To Wane The Sun Away,
And Through The Window Of The Soul Lies Raquia,
Where The Land Exists For The Spirits, The Gods, Me And Of Course her…

 

Edward Martin Ramsden

12/6/2008

I dated a beautiful gothic model called Clem.
I dont think she knew how to be happy.
She put herself outside society so much, I just wanted her to find a place of her own

This poem was and is for her.
She never read it.