Antique moonlight shines on heirloom silver-
Silent lake of amalgamated tears.
Exposed, they clatter loud as they shiver
A tragic masquerade to mask their fears.
Uncertainty spills hot from candles bright,
Lace napkins rustle echoes wet and wild,
Defying brilliant magic’s mortal sight
Spinning a new birthright to Karma’s child.
The weary larks wane, mourn the death of day,
As stars blink open their rust en-dewed eyes
Dark pleasures strengthen at the birth of May
Blowing off lights with their cold, morbid sighs.
Like fluids they hover on laid-out wares,
Human sense vanquished by unworldly cares.
Linked to The Mag