Sanctum

Can’t you feel the surge of confusion?
Has the memory of fiery midnight passion
Become a dreaded joyless curse
Winding its fingers into the obverse?
I can feel the emotional thunderstorm building,
But those days are long past, dying.
The embers still glow in this heart of ash,
These wylde eyes watch as hopes are dashed,
Long ago, the path was set clear,
The past is present and forms my tears.
My heart and soul are slaves in torment.
How did I fall into such a dark descent?
Any chance to rise above is foretold
In fairytales, merely Fool’s Gold.
Have no fears, my dying one,
I vow never to befoul your sanctum.

~CWylde © 2016

 

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