The rag black as night, covered in crowded marks..

[xui]

I am usually not one to write with rhyming patterns, but who gives a fuck?
This pretty much sums up my disposition towards my lover.

Can you guess who she is?

The rag black as night, covered in crowded marks-
the sign of a craving complete.
Some are turquoise bathed in yellow,
and rarely a peach can be seen.

She calls my name like the finest lover,
vowels being intricate. Consonants - discrete.
I'm sure you cannot find another,
a one man race not even he can complete.

Yet one can hardly describe the relationship held
It is quite unlike the moth consuming flame
for after each time I feel that I'm through
her voice shatters silence and drags me again

But I can resist, honest!
Though, I don't want to try.
For what good does work in life do
when even kings are destined to die?

Call me selfish for the reasons above,
or emotional for ones below.
But who are you to act a judge when I've chosen
to cherish this undertow?

This storm of me is a setting sun,
where each clap of thunder acts as metronome
being hand in hand with each shallow breath -
recognized asystolic but simply at home.

 

[Raz]

I didn't love the fourth stanza so much, the "I can resist, honest" bit seems to be completely out of synch with the rest of it (ie informal whereas the rest of it is quite formal).....other than that wee nitpick I rather like it.

 

[RareForm]

i was particularly fond of the last stanza. that bit in the fourth stanza that Raz cited does seem a bit stilted. good writing.

 

[junctionalfunkie]

It sounds like it's about addiction. Is "she" a drug?