Vahrzaw

My Breath Makes a Path Through the Dust

Vahrzaw


Mist embrace marble, step timidly 
Evening shed, bled through fissured glass 
Sapless leaves caress her marble sheet 
Church bells, far-flung, ring 
Within this coffin, she lays her head 
A waning, ambered silhouette 
Breathe whispers, my words trembling 
Dust motes clutched in suspension 
Remove her finery, bloodless skin 
On her knees, in a posture of prayer 
My breath flew, thrust-through, barbed thorns 
Church bells, far-flung, ring 
Collapsed on her back, once pinned in the dirt 
Buggered whore, stare under her skirt 
Tongue upon thigh, lick careless lust 
My breath makes a path through the dust 
Her habit hiked up, black, rotten and tattered 
Flung over her head, fingers seize upon her neck 
Foreplay embark, tongue pushing past 
Whisper a path through her dust 
Hushed lips I kissed, an open wound 
Whilst teardrops cleave the worm's acre 
God's faithful laid bare to lust 
My breath makes a path through the dust