Forgotten Bride Of Skye © Surazeus 2024 02 07 Long years of waiting by the broken door erases my name from river of tears with tangled raspberry vines of desire that scent sea air with pungent attitude volatile as waves that discuss with rocks nature of love that binds strange hearts with trust. With fingerless claws of the hungry wolf I dig for words of potatoes from muck to tear from unreachable hell of fear my heart that howls louder than wind on crags jagged with laughter of pain I conceal while stumbling on the sideways slope of time. Frost-crystalled branches from obsessive oaks that stare at me with eyes of bitter faith jab my soft breast with incoherent rage when I trudge far across flat rain-wet heath to clutter frozen hearth with prayerful psalm that sparks flame of the sun with bloody hands. Baking potatoes in hot glowing coals of grim sarcastic proverbs ravens croak, I gasp for breath at sweet glow of flame heat that sears my tingling skin with ache of hope that jagged blades of ice deep in my bones may melt into tears of relief in Spring. If he ever returns to my small hearth from sailing west across the storm-wracked sea with treasures of gold from the Promised Land, he may find my body frozen as stone, and covered with red mushrooms of despair, then he could weep for me with bitter joy. Huddled under foul-smelling wolf-fur cloak, shivering as I cough gray clouds from my breast, I stare ten thousand years at flickering flames to watch young fairies with gossamer wings dance on my unmarked grave with gruesome glee as they tear my body into frail snakes. Dismembered into snakes with bloody eyes, I writhe with tingling buzz of ecstasy in fierce angelic spasms of despair that wind my separate bodies in tense clump, till bright Orpheus appears from sun beam which fills my pulsing brain with lightning words. Awake at gleam of dawn over blue hills, I sit up by cold embers in stone hearth, and feel my body whole again with light, so I eat apple from the storage bin and lean against the broken door to smirk since I am his forgotten bride of Skye.
Surazeus Astarius Συράζευς Αστάριος. Cartographer. Epic Poet. Hermead epic poem about Philosophers 126,680 lines of blank verse. http://tinyurl.com/AstarianScriptures
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