• Cantarella

    We meet at ten past two,
    Your smile indifferent yet deceptive
    Paramour be the dress that exposes your brilliant malevolence
    Gracious yet childish,
    You bow your head with primp perfection and
    Cease to know the lurking truths that lie behind
    The blood red jealousy
    Painted on one’s Rozen lips
    The white banister circles with anticipation
    Silent is the snake that waits for its deceptive intellect
    As the clock ticks past twelve
    Your blinded mind clouds with
    The insanity of innocence and
    The tainted pattern behind betrayal
    And as the clock ticks past time
    I weep for my blatant actions.