The Crackled Discipline
Love hurts.
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Rackled like frail white branches
Then marbled, from the tear duct, hexed with wax
Born impure or malicious, thus it was love, abrupt in its steps
Imperfect, chasing discipline in the devastating snow
Black dot, imaginary walls, an end
Hallways, ebony-enchanted lamps, murmur of old, forlorn Beatrices
Giselles
And the sort
Familiar rooms like trenches
Boils senses within
These halls are vexed
Her voice pierced the firmament, the cold as it was once, safety
Not unlike a smile, different in purpose, bestial cadence lies in us
Corridors within corridors, I fell here before so I shall fall no more
And her steps
Intrepid in its evilness
Brought me three orchids
I killed them all
We died of thirst
Red veil, red dress, come undone to me
Throw your crown on the floor
Save the tears for when you are out the door
We were once slaves
We shall be slaves no more
Corpse-like eyes that raze distress
Unveil then to me principles of impurity like it was unrequited, my love
Like I was a fool thinking about the moon and imagining us inside
Tear down what was once sacred
Devastate then my holiness, what is left of it
Then rape my only sense of dignity
I am no more
But I shall again be
For I hope that death is not the end
I have for you Contempt
So suffer in stillness and the impact of this newfound loneliness
You are but a vampire without blood
A damsel with a castle during a flood
I will bring back the Plague
I shall infest these wooden, restless halls
Rid myself of your mark
Disembark
Twilight as my robe
I am discipline, vengeance and pain
I am love abused
Tenderness in disarray
For these white branches are no more, I whisper
For this love, buried, will forever be unheard of
© Lucas Melo 2022
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