Love like a panther stalks me,
Gaunt, insatiate, quench his pace,
Hot white blood spilled to sate him
Quenches the spell he casts.
Appalled at my dark guilt,
I seek to penetrate the dark thickets;
And snare him in the sultry grove,
Where he waylays my taut ardor.
This strange trek, a startled craving
Singes and snares a parched traveler.
Assaulted by the lithe cat,
He squanders his blood, his heart.
No comments:
Post a Comment