One Grisly Pale Hand

Death, had wept before me,
In the feeble form of lust.
She, who never prospered,
Until Sorrow showed her up.
God, kept his words alone.
For tears to sweep below.

She asked for sweetness of death,
Though gave me no love of flesh.

Holiness, that I worshipped,
I am stricken before death.
Torn from my severed soul,
Oh, Lea! The sin you kept.
One Grisly Pale Hand,
Falls over the edge.

White tides of Lea’s light,
Were opened at the slight.

Smooth the letters on parchment,
Drink the fragrant bouquet.
Pass the soliloquy to stone,
God’s serenity in strife.
Here, I’ll hold Lea’s hand,
Shrouded by loneliness.

Oh, terrible shame, release me,
God, I beg of you, hear my plea.

When priests reveal His truth,
I’ll cry for God once more.
Never to forget Lea’s stroke,
Lea’s hand pained my soul.
Above the pages of hymns,
A cloud hovers in song.

I tremble by the weathered nights,
Torn at last by Lea’s cruel blights.

One Comment Add yours

  1. SauceBox says:

    I liked this. It was well written and had a nice flow to it. Great work! You’ve got my follow. Check out my comedy blog and give it a follow if you like it!

    Liked by 1 person

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